


Chorégraphie

by courtneyjjigae



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Ballet, F/M, Hot Mess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Luka plays violin, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Teenage Drama, ballerina marinette dupain-cheng
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29274951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courtneyjjigae/pseuds/courtneyjjigae
Summary: In this Ballet AU, the characters do not have powers. Instead, they study at the prestigiousLycée des Arts de Françoise Dupont. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a promising ballet student who enjoys spending time with her best friend, Luka. A famous friend of school rival Chloé suddenly enrolls at Françoise Dupont, throwing everyone, but especially Marinette, for a loop. As their second year in high school progresses, they all face increasing pressures in their studies and in their lives.//This is the written fanfic that pairs with my ML Ballet AU that I have shared on Instagram & Twitter [IG @courtneywirthit | Twitter @courtneyjjigae]
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi
Comments: 141
Kudos: 528





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, Courtney here! I know that I said I wouldn’t write a fic for the Ballet AU, but here we are. This is the written fanfic that pairs with my Instagram and Twitter posted illustrations of my ML Ballet AU. If you’d like to see those posts (either for the first time, or again), you can find those illustrations on [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/courtneywirthit/guide/ml-ballet-au/17954574469393657/?igshid=1o569y7gr9d6z) and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/courtneyjjigae).
> 
> I hope you enjoy as I struggle.

It was as if time was moving slow, with the soft wind barely blowing through the loose strands of her hair that had fallen out of her quickly tied bun. She was limp, sprawled across the floorboards with her legs hanging over the edge of the houseboat’s stage deck. It wasn’t too chilly, but she still pulled the sleeves of her light sweater down over her hands as she reveled in the ethereal lighting of the string lights that were strung up. Marinette was at ease as she felt the music that flowed from Luka’s electric guitar, even though he was just simply fiddling around with different tunes. When it stopped, she knew what he was about to say.

“It’s getting late, Mari,” he said, shooting her a soft glance to let her know he wasn’t bothered by her presence, “And you said you were determined to start this new school year with a clean slate by waking up at a responsible hour each morning.” He leaned back against the lawn chair to stretch his back after retaining rather poor posture over his guitar.

She flipped through her phone, blowing out a sigh that lifted her bangs for barely a moment. “I _know_ , but maybe I just don’t want tomorrow to start?” she whispered with a pout. She knew Luka heard her and that he was probably waiting for her to continue with whatever thoughts were jumbled in her brain when school became the topic of conversation. She tugged on her right earlobe out of habit, rubbing one of the ladybug earrings that Luka had given her two year ago for good luck as if to check it was still there. “I mean— _you_ know I love school. You consume yourself with music, and I basically dance all day, but I just have a weird feeling about this new year. I-I don’t know...I can’t explain.”

Luka set his guitar down in its stand, letting his thoughts come first before he said anything. She thought that perhaps she was just being a child. Maybe she hadn’t quite grown into her age as she had _just_ turned sixteen a few weeks ago. Now, September was here signaling the beginning of attending _Lycée des Arts de Françoise Dupont_ for a second year.

Marinette and Luka looked up when they heard giggling as Juleka and Rose came running up from the galley. 

“Luka, Luka!” Rose laughed as she held up her phone to both him and Marinette, “Tell me this guy _doesn’t_ remind you of Monsieur Satie!” 

The petite blonde struggled through her laughter to hold the phone still while they watched the video, “It’s like when this conductor wants the violas to play louder, he just yells ‘VIOLA! _VIOLAAAAA_!’ and then his awkward frown is hilarious with such dramatic music! _Every time_.”

The phone screen lit up Marinette and Luka’s faces as the two girls played the video for them and Marinette was actually pleased with herself that she understood the humor even if it would naturally make more sense to the music students. She looked over at Luka who was doing his best to hold back a smirk.

“Did you show this to Mylène? She loves viola jokes,” he looked at Juleka, “I can’t wait to make this a running joke with her.”

“ _And…_ I sent it to the group chat now!” Rose grinned and held a hand out dramatically, “VIOLAAA!”

“You know, Ivan won’t be able to keep a straight face around Monsieur Satie once he sees this too, right?” Juleka made a smirk that _almost_ matched Luka’s. Marinette looked between the fraternal twins, sometimes seeing how they really fit the twin stereotypes, and at other times seemed so different. Physically, they were both relatively tall and lanky, with naturally dark hair which they both also enjoyed dying the tips of—Luka’s a bright blue and Juleka’s an almost electric purple. For what appeared to be such “edgy” exteriors, the twins were both sensitive and naturally kind, though Luka was more outgoing than Juleka. For Juleka, it took her some time to get comfortable and break out of her shy zone, but she and Luka both attracted good people in their lives, and it’s how they were rarely ever apart from Rose and Marinette respectively.

As the group of teenagers continued rewatching the video, a notification dashed across the top of Rose’s phone. Marinette quickly saw the words “bourgeois baby” and knew _exactly_ who it was and rolled her eyes in contempt.

“Oooh, it looks like we will have a new student joining us at school,” the small blonde girl squealed, holding up the phone to the much taller Juleka. “Well, at least according to Chloé -”

Marinette and Luka decided to have a look for themselves.

**_bourgeois baby tweeted:_ ** _i can’t wait to take over Françoise Dupont with THE best dancer this year! going to blow this school year away with NEW TALENT! hehe ~_

Marinette crossed her arms. “ _Wonderful_. Another snob.”

“Hey, you never know, Mari,” Luka softly bumped her with his shoulder. “We don’t know what this new kid could be like.”

“Oh, _believe me_ , with the history we _all_ have with _Mademoiselle_ Chloé Bourgeois, you can’t honestly believe this person is going to be nice!” she groaned. She scrunched up her face in an attempt to not let her growing annoyance boil over. “Plus! The implication they will take over the school? This person must suck just as much as her to be okay with that attitude of hers.”

The most Luka could do in response is bob his head around with an amused expression of agreement growing on his face.

Another ding on Rose’s phone. Juleka read it aloud for the other three, somewhat bemused, “She added that it’s someone famous?”

“Oh!” Rose gleefully sang, “I wonder who it could be! They must really be amazing if they already have some kind of reputation, yeah?”

Marinette slumped her posture in disbelief. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

While the two other girls tried to rack their brains of who this mysterious new arrival to Françoise Dupont could be, all Marinette felt was the growing dread in her stomach. She already felt uneasy about the incoming school year and now this? It rattled her confidence, especially if this student was already famous. Why would they need training at their school, even if it did have an amazing reputation as being _the_ prestigious art school of Paris. This person was already making a name for themselves, so why come in and steal the limelight from those who haven’t had the opportunity yet? It didn’t seem fair. She was also trying to ignore the fact this person was apparently friends with _Chloé_.

Marinette caught herself zoning out when Luka, who towered over her, glanced her way. He gently tapped her forehead. “You know what? I’m feeling a bit restless. How about a bike ride around the city for a bit before we get you home?”

She beamed. “That actually sounds perfect!”

Marinette quickly grabbed her bag and slid on her mules. Juleka reassured Luka that she would get Rose home safely since she only lived a few blocks away from the Couffaine houseboat. That didn’t mean Luka wouldn’t demand they text him letting him know they both got home alright while he was gone. Juleka, of course, rolled her eyes because “being two minutes older than her wasn’t _that_ much older” but she still always followed through with checking in. Everyone appreciated how much he cared.

With several parting cheek kisses, Marinette said goodnight to the girls, and she would greet them tomorrow morning at school bright and early with fresh croissants (well, one _pan au chocolat_ for Rose) from her family’s bakery. With that, she hopped onto the back of Luka’s bright blue bike, and he easily pedaled away.

* * *

For any other kid his age, the evening before the first day of school usually shouldn’t be that big of a deal. For Adrien Agreste—though—it was a _huge_ deal, so the only thing he could think of doing at that moment was call his best friend.

“You’ll be fine, quit worrying,” her monotone voice answered. He had also been texting her all day, and perhaps she was getting annoyed. Sometimes he couldn’t tell even though he knew her for so long. He was grateful she put up with him and his nerves and in this moment, he really envied how calm she always appeared to be.

He did his best to reduce the amount of whine quivering in his voice. “But Kagami, _you’ve_ been in school already. You’re _never_ flustered,” agonized Adrien, “I’ve never been to school. It’s amazing my father is allowing me to attend _at all,_ but what if I make a fool of myself?”

He looked out of the large windows of his bedroom catching his reflection against the dark exterior of the city. His light gold hair was disheveled from him constantly running his hands through it; a nervous habit he maintained throughout his life. Once again, he brushed a slightly tan hand through it and collapsed on his white sofa, disturbing his sleeping black cat. Plagg was probably the only thing in his room that felt natural; everything else, from the large television, arcade games, his large bed, a grand piano, and even a second floor filled with books still had a sterile feeling to it. It just didn’t feel like a home. Not that he, Adrien conceded to himself, actually knew what home should feel like. Sometimes he felt like he was trapped in a gilded cage, and he was happy to have Plagg keep him company—the black cat was a living being after all. Adrien just wished that Plagg could actually talk to him when he was feeling like he was a bother to everyone around him.

Kagami let out a deep sigh on the other end of the line. “Adrien, I’ll never understand how you forget that _you_ are _Adrien Agreste_. Even if you did something stupid, girls would fawn over you and think it was the cutest thing ever.”

“You really think so?” he wondered, letting a lopsided grin flash across his face. He could feel Kagami roll her eyes because she knew exactly what expression he had on his face as he asked this. “Seriously though, I have this reputation already. Yes, I model for my dad’s clothing brand, but you know how some people think I’m a complete shut-in too.”

Adrien knew that he had a point. He had grown up with private tutors for both academics and ballet, especially because his late mother encouraged the latter when he expressed interest at a young age. It was only because his ballet master reported to his father that he progressed so much (Adrien believes the words “prodigy” and “incredibly talented” were used), the ballet master highly encouraged Gabriel to let Adrien audition for Lycée des Arts de Françoise Dupont. Adrien also had a bad reputation for doing whatever his father expected of him, even if that meant overscheduling Adrien for modeling on top of his school work and dance lessons. Long days of photoshoots, classes, (sometimes speckled with learning piano or going to fencing club) without complaint helped prove to Gabriel that Adrien should be given the chance.

It didn’t hurt that Gabriel Agreste was already a huge donor to the school. Gabriel’s late wife was one of their incredible alumni, so he couldn’t doubt the credibility of the establishment.

Despite Adrien’s busy and somewhat lonely lifestyle, he had grown used to being alone, but he was definitely grateful he met Kagami because she could always keep him in check. They met through their families business connections and eventual fencing club tournaments.

“You lead a different lifestyle but that doesn’t make you a complete imbecile,” she quipped. “And don’t forget, you got accepted into Françoise Dupont on your own merit. So, you’re just part imbecile.”

“Yeah...that’s true,” his voice trailed off before realizing what her last sentence had been. “Wait, what?”

“Is there anything else? Because I’ve repeated most of this already in various forms of communication, and I need to get ready for bed.” Kagami didn’t always mean to have such an edge to her words, but she felt it inefficient to always be gentle and would rather be straight to the point. It used to catch Adrien off-guard, especially when he first met her. He had been eight, and she had been nine, but he had grown used to it. Now, he found it amusing at sixteen-years-old.

He reached over to pet Plagg, who didn’t even show any change in emotion. “No. Thanks, Kagami,” he uttered. “I’m sorry if I’ve been aggravating you. I’m just…”

“No, Adrien, it’s alright. I should be more understanding,” added Kagami, a bit gentler this time. “I was nervous too when I first started at Deschamps, but maybe having the added bonus of Anita with me helped reduce any uneasy feelings.”

“I guess I keep forgetting that Chloé will be with me— _oh_ ,” he quickly stopped. Aside from Chloé, only one other person’s name could bother Kagami by its very mention. He always tried to be cautious and avoided mentioning Chloé’s name around Kagami. The two girls never got along, despite how much he tried to be the mediator through all of their squabbles. In this moment, the anxiety of his first real school day left him rather absentminded, and he let her name slip out.

He could feel Kagami’s unspoken annoyance at the simple second it took to say Chloé’s name. “Oh, _of course_. Mademoiselle Bourgeois will most certainly be of help to you _in this trying time_ ,” she seethed. He knew she was probably gripping the phone tighter. “And what I mean is, she will just flaunt you off like a new toy because you are, as a reminder, Adrien Agreste.”

“Hey, you know I’ve grown up with her, Kagami! You both are my only real friends,” he quickly stated, doing his best to defend Chloé. Admittedly, he silently agreed with Kagami, noting that Chloé could be annoying at times with how much she clung to him and his fame.

“But who’s the _best_ friend.” Kagami wasn’t asking a question. It was very near a threat.

He tried to stifle his laughter. Kagami wasn’t the type to be easily provoked, but she definitely had her buttons. “Kagami, you don’t need to question me.”

“Seriously though, Adrien,” she let out a deep breath to calm her irritation, “Try to get some sleep. You’re the kindest boy I know, and you’ll make friends soon enough. I’m sure you’ll easily impress your teachers as well.”

“Thanks, Kagami. Thanks for keeping me in check. And always putting up with me.”

“Well, someone has to or else you’d be just as obnoxious as Chloé Bourgeois,” she maintained, adding another jab to her social enemy.

“Oh _God_ , I don’t want to even imagine me being similar-”

“Then listen to me and get to bed,” Kagami commanded, “But try a shower and some chamomile tea, since that usually calms you down.” Adrien smiled, knowing that was her unique way of showing affection the best she could.

Standing up and stretching from his poorly seated posture on the couch, he reassured her that he would do what he was told. “Good night, Kagami. Have a good start to your school year tomorrow too.”

She let out a small laugh. “You know I will. I always succeed. I go to Deschamps, after all.”

He clicked his phone off and threw himself onto his bed. Kagami was right, a hot shower and some tea will help him. For a few minutes, he wished his relationship with his father was more affectionate and dreamed of his mother to come reassure that he would be okay. Unfortunately, both of those wouldn’t happen, and he quickly shook it off. He was used to it by now.

He was too lazy to leave his room and politely messaged the Agreste family assistant, Nathalie, if she wouldn’t mind making him some tea to help him sleep. As he stretched his arms and sat up, he looked over to Plagg, who still hadn’t moved from his comfortable spot on the couch.

“It’s no big deal. Being a new student at this academy will be great, right, Plagg?” Adrien asked, giving his black cat some scratches behind his ears.

Plagg, as if his owner did not exist, gave him no response and continued sleeping soundly with zero concern.

* * *

Marinette didn’t have to say anything. Her bangs and loose hair whipped around as Luka biked along the Seine, and with him, she always knew she didn’t have to explain herself and her feelings - Luka was her best friend after all. He hummed a tune as his own hair lashed about, the dyed electric blue tips of his dark hair catching the streetlights giving the impression it could glow. She squeezed her clasped hands around his waist, still trying to describe why she felt nervous for their new school year to start the next day. As worried as she was, the cool breeze of the Seine enveloped her, and calmed her nerves a little.

As she stumbled over her thoughts, Luka looked back at her briefly. When he finally turned down a side street to enter Rue de Rivoli, he decided to help her stop wallowing in her anxiety. 

“It’s okay to feel anxious about tomorrow, you know that right?” he broke the easy silence, “It’s technically a new beginning, even if we already experienced a school year there already.”

Marinette breathed in—no matter what scent Luka wore, the faint smell of rain seemed to linger on him, most likely due to him living on the Couffaine houseboat. She looked up at the dark sky, and while the lights of the city glowed, they seemed to help make the stars sparkle especially tonight. She noticed how the chill in the air calmed down as they biked further away from the river. Finally resting her forehead on Luka’s back, she slowly exhaled, “I know...but you know how I get weird gut feelings at times.”

“Yeah, but it’s not always a bad thing, Marinette,” Luka acknowledged, trying to reassure her everything would be alright. He came to a stop as he approached an intersection and set his feet down on the pavement so he could look at her completely. “Madame Pavlova sees the potential in you, even when you were a first year student. You have a good relationship with _almost_ everyone -”

Marinette smirked at his “ _almost_ everyone” and laughed. Leave it to Luka to be real with her, even when he’s attempting to make her feel better. She began to laugh, which somehow lit up the light dash of freckles across the sloped bridge of her nose. “That’s it! Maybe I’m just dreading seeing the likes of Chloé and Lila again. These two months of summer not seeing them were too short!”

As Luka began to pedal again, he felt her grip tighten. “Ugh! Chloé and her new amazing _friend_ starting this year. And I _hate_ Lila! I don’t want to hear her brag about whatever lame dance intensive she _supposedly_ took part of!” she groaned. All he could do was chuckle.

“Try to not let them get to you so much this year.”

Marinette almost let go in frustration thinking about the ridiculous girls she had to deal with in almost all of her dance classes. “But you don’t understand! You _know_ Chloé flaunts around with whatever new expensive dance gear when her technique isn’t even up to par. You don’t have to deal with people like them in _your_ department.”

They could see the Pyramide du Louvre as they biked past, Luka making sure to bike down this street knowing it and the Louvre itself was one of Marinette’s favorite night scenes. All at once, she had a thought.

“Actually! Luka, before you go too far, can we stop by -”

He knew exactly where she wanted to go. Almost immediately as the road he needed came almost a second after she spoke, he easily turned onto Place du Carrousel. They faced the river again and as his bike approached the Pont du Carrousel bridge, Marinette smiled and tugged on his shirt. “How did you even know?”

Luka glanced back with soft laughter and he turned right onto the road before he began crossing the bridge. “Because it’s the place you like to go when you’re feeling confused.”

“Alright, you know-it-all,” she spoke while pursing her lips. _Of course_ he’d know. Was she always this predictable or is it just the talent of being best friends? She started to question if she could guess locations that helped Luka when he felt lost, and she was worried she would potentially fail that quiz.

“Are you getting cold?,” he asked but he kept pedaling, hoping to get to their destination before it was too late and would then immediately have to take Marinette home.

“No,” she shook her head in response even though he couldn’t see. She actually enjoyed the cool breeze, reveling in how when they took these bike rides, it was as if she were flying.

She could eventually see the high point of the obelisk, located in the center of Place de la Concorde and she began to wonder what the city looked like from the top of it. Luka went back to humming; she knew it helped him focus when he did.

As he wove around the cars on the street, Marinette watched the different passerby: young university couples staying out as late as possible with their own classes starting the next day; some drunk men stumbling around; and even a young man busking on a street corner. The distant guitar playing brought her back into focus.

“Hey Luka,” she said slowly, “Do you sometimes wish you had the opportunity to play guitar more at school? Or are you happy with violin? Like...sometimes I get scared I’m putting too much energy into ballet. What if I don’t accomplish anything with it?”

When she finished her question, she didn’t realize he had stopped pedaling and had pulled up in front of their destination. Her dark hair softly fell back into place as she quickly brushed her bangs (a constant habit of hers because she always wanted them set a certain way). Luka stepped off the bike and slapped the kickstand down with his foot.

“Well, I imagine one day you’ll perform, center stage, right here sooner than you think,” he stated simply, grinning as he cocked his head towards the huge building before them. “And - to be honest - I never thought about if I preferred violin to guitar. I love playing the violin. Guitar is a different kind of outlet for me, I have a very different connection to it, and I’ve never been able to figure out why.”

The bright lamps of the Palais Garnier illuminated behind Luka and quick flashes of car headlights floated around him like twirling orbs. She quickly stepped onto the sidewalk, lightly tapping the toes of her mules to make sure they wouldn’t slide off her feet, and she bounced up the staircase. Marinette felt like she was six-years-old again, the first time her parents took her to see the Ballet de l’Opera national de Paris perform _The Nutcracker_. She was bundled up in her fancy red wool coat, her favorite semi-sheer black polka-dotted tights, and fuzzy white beret begging her parents to get a picture with her on the grand staircase inside. The excitement she felt that evening returned to her as she _pas de bourréed_ , stepping into a graceful _arabesque_. The light danced off her dark hair, and it was if she was performing a recital for the various sculptures that graced the façade of the 19th century Napoleon III-style architecture.

Luka crossed his arms, amused by the sudden change in attitude of his friend. “And you were just questioning if ballet is your destiny.” Watching her dance, he wondered if he should have brought along his violin, and then they could have made some pocket money from late-night passersby.

“When I’m here, everything becomes clear, that’s why!” she laughed. The soft moving light danced around them from passing cars, and the ambient noise of night traffic was their own soundtrack.

“What’s become clear for you?” he asked as he sat on the concrete steps.

In mid-pirouette, she stopped, confidently putting her hands on her hips. “I _will_ make it into the Ballet de l’Opera national de Paris and dance here, on the stage of the Palais Garnier! This incoming school year won’t break me, no matter what.”

“Then we should get you home, so you start our second year by waking up on time.”

“I will be fine!” Marinette pouted as she gave him a friendly punch. While she held a record for never waking up at a decent time and arriving at school in a hurry (usually saved by Luka and his trusty bike), this year, she was determined to be better.

“I’ll believe it when it happens consistently for at _least_ a week!”

She turned to face him again and pursed her lips out of irritation. “Then I’ll happen to forget one of those croissants I plan to bring tomorrow,” she retorted, tossing her chin to face the sky, random strands of hair flipping along with her red satin hair ribbon.

“Maybe I’ll stop picking you up some days, but I won’t tell you which ones, so you’re forced to wake up on time _every day_ ,” he joked and began to chuckle when he saw the panic spread across Marinette’s face.

Her shoulders dropped in shock. “You _wouldn’t_.”

Luka stood up shaking his head, still with a smile on his face. He walked down the steps of the Palais Garnier with a musical step and bent down slightly to face the smaller girl next to him. She had seemed to stop growing in height when they were twelve years old, and he dwarfed her being about a head and half taller.

“Why don’t we get you home so you at least try to get some sleep,” he gently nudged her with his shoulder. “Let’s make sure your weird feelings about the new school year manifest to be good ones.”

Taking in one last mental image of the grand building before her, dreaming of one day staring into the audience from the stage, Marinette nodded in agreement.

“It’s going to be an amazing year,” she whispered.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette’s morning begins with a good omen, but the day slowly devolves as the school loses their minds over Chloé’s famous friend.

She sat up, staring at the clock resting on the sturdy shelf above her lofted bed. Staring back at her, the digital clock face read 6:32AM and Marinette was wide awake. She ran her hand through her matted hair and groaned. While she had gotten a decent amount of deep sleep, she was suddenly awake, and she had no idea why. She had at least another hour during which she could potentially get more sleep, but she knew any chances of sleep returning had left. Letting out a huff that blew her bangs up, she wrapped herself in her cozy pink comforter and stared up at through her skylight as the morning light began to peek in.

It was officially the first day of her second year at Françoise Dupont. Judging by the light flooding into her room and basking in its rays, Marinette knew the weather would be wonderful. She took in a deep breath of the warm smell of freshly baked bread that made its way up from her parents’ bakery below. _Might as well make the most of it_ , she thought to herself and reached for her phone that was stationed next to her clock.

Typing quickly, she was proud of herself for waking up on her own. A smug smirk appeared after she hit send, and the blue text bubble she dispatched to Luka read, « _IM AWAKE! and before you i bet!!!_ »

She paused for a second and sent another message to him. « _if this wakes you up, ill meet you outside the bakery with a *SUPER* fresh croissant for you in an hour??_ »

Before she could set her phone down to enjoy a relaxed morning routine without feeling rushed (for the first time in recent memory), it buzzed.

« _throw in a toasted baguette with butter and jam and youve got a deal because ill burn that croissant off in five minutes_ » Luka’s grey text bubble read. She was excited but also slightly annoyed, moreso out of envy, because it was true. It was unfair that Luka had such a fast metabolism when his school focus had him sitting down most of the day. Marinette also easily stayed fit, especially with the amount of dance and physical activity she did every day, but she had moments of worry. It was both a blessing and a curse to be the daughter of bakers, but she wouldn’t have exchanged it for anything.

She quickly replied with a thumbs up and practically slid down her loft staircase railing. Waking up naturally to enjoy her morning before school with the sun shining? It had to be a good omen.

Marinette’s own parents were stunned to see their teenage daughter awake and ready as she casually strolled into the bakery at 7:20AM. While the bakery was a place of business, it still felt like home because it was directly beneath her family’s comfortable apartment. The satisfying scent of fresh bread with delicate hints of sugar, fruit flavorings, and bittersweet chocolate always lingered in Marinette’s hair, and she never had an issue with it. On this day in particular, the calmly fresh scent of roses wafted because her mother was making her special _croissants à la roses_ —Marinette’s favorites. The shop was bustling with early morning orders and deliveries, so she helped herself to the breakfasts she promised Luka, Juleka, and Rose. _Perhaps I should grab some extras for Alya and Nino? Nino is always hungry…_ She considered as she almost finished packing up the still-warm croissants, making sure to grab one rose croissant for herself. She stopped, thinking maybe Luka might want one of them too because he enjoyed just as much as Marinette did, and added one to the bag to surprise him and his fast metabolism later. While sharing a rose croissant with Luka had crossed her mind, she knew that she would end up eating the entire treat, and he would make no effort to stop her.

“And I’ll be there early enough to share them with everyone!” She happily exclaimed, still proud of herself. She grabbed one more pastry bag, stamped with the _Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Pâtisserie _ gold foil logo that Marinette had helped give design input a few years ago when they wanted to update their brand. The most she had said was ‘This is pretty! I like this!’ since she was small and didn’t really understand, but it was a constant reminder that her parents always respected her ideas; it was technically a family bakery after all.

While wrapping up some baguettes for a customer, Sabine managed to share how surprised she was that Marinette wasn’t still in bed. “Mari, you can pack a box of macarons for your friends too, if you’d like,” her mother chimed. Marinette finished nestling the baked goods into one large to-go bag and grabbed her pink with white polka dotted duffle and school bag.

“How about I take a box back after lunch, maman?” the young girl suggested, demonstrating how much she was already carrying.

Sabine quickly grabbed one of the macaron boxes and began packing a flavor assortment of the sweet meringue confections. “I’ll set these aside for you to share later,” she noted and set them aside, making sure her daughter saw. There was a fairy-like ding from a bike’s bell, and Marinette knew Luka had arrived, just as they had planned.

As she was about to step out, her father barreled towards her. “Mari, honey, you almost forgot your water bottle!” Tom waved a pink drink tumbler. He attempted to hand it to her, but immediately realized Marinette’s hands were full with her bags, and she was struggling to balance.

“I’ve got it, M- _Tom_ ,” Luka’s gentle voice offered, the bell of the boulangerie door ringing only seconds after. Luka had been attempting to get used to calling Marinette’s parents by their first names as they insisted, especially since he practically grew up with their daughter and had routine shifts at the bakery. Despite his trying, he still wasn’t quite comfortable with it, and Marinette could hear it when Luka paused before saying her father’s name.

The burly man, whose hands were still dusted with flour which left traces on the Marinette’s water bottle, beamed as he handed it to the young man. “Ah, Luka! Always the reliable one, aren’t you? Do you need anything to eat?”

“I’ve got it covered, papa! We should get going, but I’ll see you later for lunch!” Marinette reminded him. She gave her father the best hug that was manageable with all of her belongings and gave kisses to her mother.

Tom gave Luka a heavy pat on the back, and to Luka’s ignorance, left a rather large white dusty handprint against his heather blue shirt. Marinette bit her lip, trying her best to not laugh so Luka would continue to not know. “Bike safely, as always, okay kids?” Tom reminded them. “And I’ll see you later this week for your shift, Luka!”

“As always, sir,” Luka politely acknowledged, taking Marinette’s duffle to give her arms a break.

Readjusting her backpack outside, Marinette opened the handled paper bag with the goods she had promised. “Do you want the croissant or your jam sandwich first?”

“I’ll wait until we get to school,” Luka replied. He handed her her pink bike helmet and made sure his own bags were safe to travel as he stepped onto his bicycle. “I’d rather savor the calories with everyone else.”

Marinette snapped on her helmet, placed the pastry bag in the bike basket, and quickly hopped on the seat, balancing her dance duffle on her lap.

“You all set?” 

She shifted for a second to make sure. “Yup! Let’s go! I can’t wait to impress everyone!”

* * *

As the streets of Paris blurred past, a part of Adrien wished he had friends he could arrive at school with instead of feeling trapped in the backseat of the Agreste luxury sedan. Unfortunately, his best friend attended a different academy, and he was—as usual—alone with the exception of Gorille, his trusted bodyguard, who drove and accompanied him everywhere. Twisting his special ring around on his right ring finger because he couldn’t settle his nerves, he glanced over to Gorille. The stern faced man was one of the first hired help that Adrien could remember, and although the man barely uttered a word, Gorille seemed to always keep Adrien’s best interests his top priority. The enormous bodyguard also knew where the best comic book shops were and had helped Adrien find action figures that had become his personal favorite collectibles.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he had an inkling of who it was.

Chloé’s grey text bubble immediately appeared across his screen. « _Adrikins! i cant wait to see u @ school!_ »

Another message popped up. « _ill meet u out front and i can introduce u to the ppl who matter...besides me, of course hehe_ »

And another. « _Kisses!!!!_ »

Adrien knew the polite thing to do would be to reply to his friend, but he honestly didn’t really want to. He had his read receipts turned on, so she would automatically know her command was received, but with a sigh, he quickly typed an « okay » and put his phone down.

He went through his mental checklist of everything he made sure to pack for his first day, to see if that would help calm him down. He had his dance uniform in his Gabriel Agreste brand duffle as well as a water bottle. Nathalie had packed his laptop _and_ his portable tablet with its paired stylus in a separate bag for academic classes. He assumed any textbooks would be provided. _How snobby would he look with all of this technology?_ Adrien’s mind began to wander, and he worried that maybe he should have just used notebooks and pens. He ran his hands through his hair several times, telling himself it doesn’t matter.

He began to tap his foot and bounce his knee as the car approached the façade of the school. He had been a few times, for a tour, academic entrance exam, and eventual audition, but he still felt like he had never stepped foot on its campus prior to this day.

The entrance of the building had a beautiful metal sign that read “Lycée des Arts de Françoise Dupont”. When it appeared before Adrien, the reality that he was officially entering a world he hadn’t experienced before began to hit him. He was frozen in the backseat, gripping the black leather and watched how other students were arriving, greeting friends and leisurely enjoying their time together before the bell rang, marking the official beginning of the school year.

Gorille let out a small grunt, breaking Adrien’s trance. The young boy looked over to his bodyguard to see that Gorille was handing him a small bag.

Knowing that the man wouldn’t answer if he asked him what it was, Adrien graciously accepted the small gift and looked inside. He noticed a gold stamped logo for a boulangerie patisserie and realized it was a fresh croissant wrapped in pastry paper, so it still felt warm. Adrien beamed; he had had breakfast already, but it was always a strict diet planned accordingly by his father and Nathalie. He rapidly connected the dots and knew Gorille took the time to go out and fetch Adrien’s favorite morning pastry (that he rarely got to enjoy), and he waited for them to reach the school, so Adrien wouldn’t leave potential crumbs and evidence in the car.

“Thank you so much, Gorille!” he exclaimed, his smile glowing like pure sunshine. Any worries that had built up in the commute from the Agreste manor to Françoise Dupont began to wash away and Gorille only gave a simple nod in return, his face still serious.

Suddenly, Adrien’s car door blew open, startling Adrien.

“ADRIKINSSSSSSS! You’re here! You’re _FINALLY_ HERE!” squealed a young girl, with blonde hair that was only a touch darker gold, as she jumped and practically pounced on him. 

Adrien, still trying to realize what had just occurred, kept his arm outstretched holding his pastry bag tightly to keep Chloé from squishing it. “Ah! Chloé! Let me at least get out of the car first,” he pleaded. She quickly scurried out, still bouncing in place from excitement that he had finally arrived. “I’m not late, am I?”

Her ponytail swished as she pointed her nose to the sky and waved his worry off. “No, of course not. And besides, you’re _the_ Adrien Agreste, they would be fools to give you a hard time.”

“Just because I’m an Agreste doesn’t make me an exception,” he asserted, grabbing his bags out of the car and waving goodbye to Gorille.

“Don’t be utterly ridiculous, Adrikins. You’re _you_ for a _reason_ , and people should be reminded if they step out of line,” she scoffed and held out her hands to check her manicured nails. “Sabrina, come here.”

A smaller bespectacled girl with red hair hurried up next to Chloé. “Yes, Chloé?”

“You’ve got everyone’s schedules and the student body list? We need to make sure Adrien surrounds himself with only the _best_.”

As the two girls reviewed different notes, sometimes hearing Chloé snicker and then huff in annoyance, Adrien found it odd Chloé didn’t even bother to introduce him to her friend. _Unless she’s not really a friend?_ He wondered in shock. Adrien then remembered the special treat that Gorille surprised him with and grinned to himself. He peered into the bag, noting his special croissant was still safely undisturbed and took in its scent, hoping to savor it the best he could. It smelled like heaven, if heaven was warm melted butter enveloping light yet flakey dough. In fact, it might have been more sinful, especially because useless carbs were practically forbidden for him to eat. He delicately ripped off a piece and he looked around to soak in what school could be like.

His previous visits to the academy were over the summer break, and it wasn’t busy like the scene he saw before him now. The building had been empty, give or take a few other potential students who were also auditioning and taking the entrance exams. For the first time, he really saw the diversity that the school cultivated and he was beginning to feel excited.

A small group was huddled together on the benches in front. It looked like they were enjoying breakfast together, and he guessed most of them were students in the music program since a few had instruments. Two of them had the tips of their hair dyed bright colors, and he tried to not stare while attempting to guess if they were siblings or not. One girl had her dark hair wrapped up in a bun, and he made the assumption that she was in the dance program based on her pale pink wrap sweater and the rolled-up convertible tights.

On another bench, he saw a red-headed boy scribbling away in a sketchbook while his friend waved their hands about constantly coming up with new ideas. A tiny girl with bright red (almost pink) hair surprised him as she appeared out of nowhere on her roller blades, carrying a canvas that was nearly twice her size. He watched her go join that first group he had noticed, and he had a pang of envy, wanting to be able to casually join in their conversation as well.

As the small gathering kept growing, Adrien became antsy about being left out. “Hey, Chloé?” he interrupted her as she and Sabrina were still going over notes for him and his upcoming school year. He jutted his chin out towards the small clique while he reached for another piece of his croissant. “Who are they? They seem really-”

“Oh, don’t even bother, Adrien,” Chloé immediately cut him off. “They aren’t worth your time, _believe me_.”

He was disappointed, but the most he could do was trust what Chloé had to say. He tore off another bite of his special croissant, doing his best to not devour it too quickly. Perhaps he was exaggerating, but this tasted like _the best_ croissant he had ever tasted, and it helped him tune out whatever Chloé was saying to him in that moment. Adrien was actually very practiced at politely ignoring her, as that is what one had to do to stay sane while being one of her _cherished_ friends.

* * *

“Do you think that’s the new student Chloé was bragging about last night?” whispered Rose, who was trying her best to not stare. Before the school bell rang, their small group had been enjoying their morning when they all noticed Chloé Bourgeois clinging to a tall boy with light golden hair as they entered the school building. They briefly stopped by locker rooms to store anything they didn’t need for their academic courses, before continuing to their main lockers and peering around the corner to get a good look at who this new guy could possibly be. Marinette could hear the buzz of whispers around her and tried to focus on what her friends next to her had to say. However, she had to admit whoever he was, it was impressive how much his appearance at the school seemed to have set the school ablaze with curiosity.

Alya, a girl with dark rimmed glasses and thick chocolate colored hair that lightened to bright auburn waves, pulled Marinette in closer and whispered, “That _has_ to be _Adrien Agreste_!” Alya Césaire just so happened to be _the_ person to go to for any inside scoop. She was one of the key students in the Stage Design & Production department, focused in screenwriting and development. She was always keen on staying in the know of everything going on at the school and even regularly kept a blog, to “keep her skills fresh”, she claimed. Besides Luka, Alya was another one of Marinette’s good friends whom she had met when they were twelve-years-old, sitting next to each other in their _collège_ years.

The others looked, while Chloé practically pulled the new student along with her ahead of them with Sabrina trailing behind.

“She _did_ say it was someone famous,” Juleka added with her low raspy voice that only Luka, Marinette, and Rose could hear.

Rose could barely contain her excitement. “Oh my gosh, you’re right! It’s definitely Adrien Agreste!”

“And _who_ exactly is this Adrien Agreste?” Marinette asked, genuinely confused. He certainly _looked_ familiar, but so did a lot of blond guys she passed on the streets. She was curious to find out how famous he actually was beyond possible teenage gossip and exaggeration. He was certainly attractive, but if he was already a well-known dancer, how come she didn’t know who she was until now, and the thoughts continued to nag her. While it bothered her, Marinette honestly wasn’t interested enough to pull up details about this Adrien Agreste on her phone.

“Girl, seriously? You don’t know?” Alya gasped in disbelief. Marinette, bemused, looked at Luka, who simply shrugged in response. If Marinette was clueless, Luka definitely wouldn’t know who the new kid was either.

“He’s a famous _fashion_ model!” Rose practically sang. “He is practically the face of the Gabriel Agreste fashion haus. I mean—Adrien _is_ his son.”

“He’s not bad to look at either, eh?” Alya agreed, jokingly pulling her glasses down as if to get a closer look at him. Her boyfriend, Nino, mocked being jealous and rolled his eyes.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Babe, why don’t we give the poor guy his space. It’s his first day here, and if he is who _you_ say he is, save your interviews for like...tomorrow?” Nino suggested, tipping his red cap up, a habit he did when he was actually unsure of advice he was giving. “I mean, bro has Chloé hanging all over him, y’know?”

Marinette couldn’t help but agree while she shut her locker door. “Or maybe just avoid him all together,” she grumbled, but only Luka could hear her. “He _is_ friends with Chloé after all…”

“Hey, how about you just focus on what _you_ need to do,” Luka reckoned softly, amused at how stubborn his friend was, poking her forehead as a reminder.

Being second years at Françoise Dupont, their first half of the day was uneventful, as their schedule consisted mainly of their academic courses in the morning. The only thing that was exciting (well, to _everyone_ besides Marinette) was that it was immediately confirmed that the new student was indeed Adrien Agreste. His name was the first to be called as Mademoiselle Bustier started with roll call, and the squeals that erupted in the classroom took her fifteen minutes to put to bed. Adrien was polite and gave a small awkward wave and a bashful smile while Chloé was smug as she sat next to him at the front of the room.

Naturally, Marinette rolled her eyes, unimpressed. She couldn’t help but judge him from the start, questioning if he was _truly_ a talented dancer or if perhaps he was simply enrolled because his father was a famous designer and _very generous_ donor. It wasn’t her fault for thinking this way; the proof that this had happened before was sitting right next to him in the form of Chloé Bourgeois. _Untalented hack_ , Marinette spitefully said in her mind, throwing daggers to the center point of the blonde girl’s ponytail.

Luka interrupted her imaginary knife tossing by reaching over and flicking her arm. It startled her so much, she replied with a rather loud “ACK!” and she almost fell out of her seat.

Marinette turned bright red when she quickly explained to Mademoiselle Bustier she had dropped her pencil and accidentally misjudged the distance. As Luka tried to contain his laughter at the scene that had played out before them, she reciprocated with a hard punch to his arm. Although she wasn’t really upset with him, he could read her expression and it clearly read, “What was that for?!”

Smirking, he pointed one of his long slender black nail-polished fingers at her mouthing, “Cut it out and focus on you.”

Marinette sighed and had to admit to herself, she should really listen to Luka’s advice.

* * *

She could feel it, despite the good beginning to the day, her anxious feelings were creeping back up in the pit of her stomach. In the dampness of the girls’ dressing room, Marinette wanted to blame it on the lingering smell of feet and sweat despite the janitor's constant use of bleach and lavender-scented soap. She had quickly dressed into the appropriate girls’ ballet uniform: pink tights, black leotard (as long as it wasn’t velvet), and a bun secured in place at the back of her head. Each skill level was assigned their own specific colored waistband, first years starting with mint and second years gaining the teal, but at times students surpassed their age and class in skill level. After the Françoise Dupont ballet masters and mistresses could get a good gauge of every individual student’s abilities, there was a chance a student could take extracurricular classes with older students. The most prestigious acknowledgement of a ballet pupil's superior proficiency was if Madame Coretti Pavlova offered her time and expertise to train them privately.

And Marinette so desperately wanted to earn Madame’s approval.

She clicked the teal waistband together so it was secure around her waist and did her best to shake off any uncertainty. She knew Madame was strict, especially with her favorites, and she had _definitely_ been hard on Marinette last year, but it never broke Marinette’s spirit. In fact, her obstinacy and determination to push herself to improve impressed Madame, resulting in Marinette receiving a full-fledged smile from the enigmatic woman _twice_.

However many times she made the woman smile, and the woman clearly saw Marinette’s natural ability, Marinette still felt nervous as she sat on the bench in the dressing room. She was waiting for her first dance lesson of the day, the period right before lunch break, and it was Ballet Intermediate B1. It was also co-ed, meaning she might actually have to deal with Adrien Agreste.

She could overhear Chloé and Lila Rossi, another girl Marinette couldn’t stand, involved in one of their typical petty discussions where they attempted to defeat the other with one-upmanship.

“Oh my gosh, Chloé, I didn’t know you were friends with Adrien Agreste,” Lila said with her sickly sweet voice. “I privately trained with the _same_ ballet instructor that the Agreste family hired! Remind me again, who _your_ family hired? Oh, wait, they didn’t.”

Marinette could hear Chloé practically snarl. “Don’t be _ridiculous_ ,” the other girl seethed. “People like Adrien and I only hire the best of the best, his dad would never hire anyone _you_ can afford!”

The two girls came into Marinette’s line of vision as they continued their conversation on their way out of the changing room. They were in the uniform, yes, but she was waiting for them to both flaunt how expensive their dance wear was. Lila’s auburn hair was in the right top knot and an orange scrunchie. Her bangs barely moved as she nodded her head along to whatever Chloé was going on about, continuing to show her cunning smile. Nothing ever seemed to get to Lila, including the many times Marinette attempted to expose her lies.

“Don’t you know about teacher-student confidentiality? Silly Chloé! But since we had the same instructor, we’ll make great dance partners,” giggled Lila, her already squished looking face looking even more squinched. Marinette rolled her eyes. “ _Especially,_ when it comes time for our _pas de deux_ classes this year!”

“Oh dear, I’m _so_ sorry but since Adrien is _my_ friend and the most fabulous dancer, I’ll bet you he will be _my_ partner,” Chloé scoffed indignantly. “Only chemistry matters after all.”

Marinette had completely forgotten about that. As second years, they would be partaking in pas de deux technique with the male students. This small reminder made her pale slightly because in all of her dance history, she only ever had to depend on herself. How could she possibly trust someone else, to not only perform well, but basically uphold the responsibility of _her life_? She knew the male students were strong, in their hours of solid male dancing technique periods, and they were all very disciplined with strength training. Even Luka, who was stationary with a violin for hours every day, was physically fit with his help around the bakery and constantly cycling around the city (making deliveries or just carting Marinette around). She began listing the names of all the male dancers she knew at Françoise Dupont that she could possibly trust her life with, to catch her at the right moment, to hold her confidently above him and even spin her in a moment’s passion on top of his own performance. Marinette couldn’t think of a single name.

For comfort, she twirled her lucky red hair ribbon to make sure it was still in place, wrapped around her neat bun and rubbed both of her ladybug stud earrings. She couldn’t place why she had an attachment to her satin hair ribbon. It was what held together the bouquet her parents surprised her with when they met her outside of her very first ballet recital when she was five years old. She hadn’t always worn it in her hair for good luck, so it managed to stay in good condition. It wasn’t until Marinette panicked after learning she had been accepted to audition for Françoise Dupont that she rummaged through her memory box and found it. And then the next week, Luka had surprised her with the special ladybug earrings for her to wear, especially for her entrance exam.

She stood up and took a deep breath in. “Just focus on yourself,” she chanted to herself and she made her way to the assigned dance studio.

The studio air was slightly chilly, and the floors were immaculately clean. Most students were busying themselves by stretching and doing easy warm ups at the barre. Adrien, of course, naturally had a few groupies surrounding him like Lila, and Chloé was doing her best to scare them off. Marinette simply ignored them and found an open spot at a center barre station. A faint smell of bergamot filled her nose, and she knew immediately that Madame Pavlova had arrived.

The woman held such a presence that she was practically regal. Her clothes consisted of a well fitting pale blue dance dress that stopped mid-thigh and a black ribbed knit wrap sweater; both accentuated how fit her body was, even at her age. The pale blue dress and natural nude toned jazz shoes lit up her dark skin tone. Atop her head, Madame’s black curls rested and were wrapped around a patterned silk scarf, with a few tendrils falling and framing her stern face. Marinette dreamed that one day, when she reached Madame’s age that she could only be at least half as classy and majestic as Madame Pavlova.

“Hello everyone,” she calmly greeted, her Afro-Russian accent giving a beautiful thick and syrupy quality to her voice. “I believe I know most of you already.”

Madame looked around the class locking eyes with each and every single student, causing some to panic and quickly look away. When it came time for Marinette to meet Madame’s gaze, Marinette nodded and gave her a faint smile. _I will show respect without fear_ , she thought to herself as she watched Aurore attempt to do the same, but blush and break eye contact swiftly.

“Except for _you_ ,” Madame said, her voice seemingly pointing directly to Adrien. “Who are you, young man?”

It was the first time Marinette really heard him speak and he didn’t sound intimidated at all by his new instructor. “Adrien Agreste, madame,” he politely replied. The sound of Adrien’s voice surprised Marinette. It was soft and gentle, yet still the deep tones of a young man but amazingly... _kind_. Even with this revelation, she still refused to look his way.

“Ah yes, now I remember you from your audition,” Madame announced. A slight pause and she continued. “Unfortunately, if I couldn’t remember you immediately, you must not have left enough of an impression. You’ll have to remind me again why we accepted you here at Françoise Dupont.”

Marinette tried her best to not smirk, so she stared straight into the mirror ahead to focus on a staring contest with her reflection. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Madame’s arm motion towards Marinette’s direction. “I’ll have you warm up here, next to Marinette Dupain-Cheng, so I can watch you closely. And I _will_ be keeping an eye on you, Agreste.”

“ _Actually_ , Madame Pavlova, I think it would be best for Adrikins to be next to me, since I _am_ his _best friend_.” Chloé’s hand shot straight into the air, but she didn’t pause for permission before beginning her complaint.

Lila made a motion to flip her hair, which was currently in a bun, “Or he could warm up _next to me_ if Chloé is an unacceptable barre neighbor.” 

The young model looked like he might, in Marinette’s opinion, die of embarrassment.

Madame Pavlova raised a single eyebrow at the meddlesome teenagers and kept her expression terrifyingly neutral. “Enough. We will begin.” Chloé and Lila seemed to have forgotten their place over the summer, but Madame instantly reminded them where they were. The two girls shushed in obedience and shuffled over to their own spots at the barre along the studio walls.

Adrien calmly approached the center barre spot and glanced over at Marinette, who still wouldn’t look in his direction. Unfortunately for Marinette, because of this, she accidentally grabbed his hand when reaching for the metal bar that would help support them during their class warm ups.

Before he could say anything, Marinette immediately retracted her hand in embarrassment and turned to face the opposite wall to get ready for a round of _pliés_. Her left hand still felt warm from the slight touch and in an opposite reaction, sent a chill down her spine. A slight rosy hue blossomed on her cheeks and spread to her neck and she took this as a sign: Marinette Dupain-Cheng decided she _did not_ like Adrien Agreste one bit, and it was in her best interest to avoid him as much as possible. She just hoped no one would notice her flush before they even began class.

Madame Corretti Pavlova, however, let a small smile grace her countenance as she surveyed the pair of students in the center of her dance studio. _This is going to be an interesting year._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I really appreciate it, as always. This is becoming a real joy to work on!
> 
> Thanks for [@KellBell39](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellBell39/pseuds/KellBell39) for her amazing editing skills and constant personal assistance with my life in general.
> 
> Shout out to Kayla for being a wonderful beta reader even when you have tired-teacher-brain. And Kei for being my second beta reader <3
> 
> Reminder: If you're curious about the art or headcanons, you can find me on Instagram (@courtneywirthit) or Twitter (@courtneyjjigae). The art I have posted will contain _very small spoilers_ and I do have a guide set up for the Ballet AU on IG! I know I can include art here in the chapters, but I would much rather prefer to keep them separate unless I find time to draw specific scenes that can be included. (and won't ruin the layout of the chapter).
> 
> I will continue working as I can and update with the next chapter as soon as possible once reviewed by my editor, @KellBell39. Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

Adrien was more than just tired. He was accustomed to waking up before the sun rose followed by a packed schedule with whatever lessons or photo shoots his father and Nathalie arranged for him. Even without his grueling schedule, this week had left him emotionally and physically drained. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this upcoming pas de deux class.

His first week of _real_ school wasn’t exactly going how he had imagined. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting once he officially stepped into the crowded halls of Lycée des Arts de Françoise Dupont—especially with Chloé clinging to him. It was already Thursday, and he had thought that by now he would have at least _some_ friendly connections. Instead, it felt like most of the other students avoided Adrien, scared to look at him directly, or others acted like fans which made it difficult to actually carry a proper conversation (without it feeling like a fanpage interview). Of course, true to what Kagami had predicted, Chloé definitely didn’t help. She wouldn’t even say a word, yet girls would run away from them, with the exception of Sabrina who acted rather more like a personal assistant than a friend.

There was only one student who seemed to approach Adrien without fear, but the student was careful to talk to him without Chloé around. On Tuesday, near the end of the day, a boy with a red cap and glasses walked up to Adrien at his locker and introduced himself as Nino. Adrien could hear some music playing in the other boy’s headphones, which he wore around his neck. Nino asked if Adrien was free to join his crew the next day, since Wednesday was a day off in French schools just like Sundays. Adrien was excited at the invitation, but quickly remembered that he couldn’t, as any day that didn’t have school would be a day packed for whatever his father wanted. He sadly declined, but he tried to make it clear to Nino that he wanted to get to know everyone. 

Adrien was worried he had made a horrible first impression. He agonized about it all day on Wednesday—so much that Monsieur Vincent decided to change the artistic direction and make the photoshoot about loss and emotional pain. Adrien was so exhausted, he didn’t even have the energy to call Kagami and complain to her afterwards. When he had collapsed onto his bed, Plagg came and cuddled with him. With this small amount of affection, he fell into a deep slumber.

Securing his black leather ballet slippers onto his feet and checking that his white t-shirt was tucked into his black ballet tights, he ran his hand through his hair. Adrien looked over at this reflection in the mirror in the boys’ dressing room. Thankfully, he didn’t _look_ tired. Adrien was determined to make Madame Pavlova remember why she and the other ballet instructors agreed to his acceptance at Françoise Dupont. He definitely approached every dance class with Madame with caution. On the other hand, Monsieur Nureyev, the ballet master of most of the male dance classes at Françoise Dupont, was Madame Pavlova’s foil. He was so relaxed in comparison to her steely exterior, he even insisted the students refer to him by his first name, Veniamin. Adrien wondered to himself how two completely different personalities could possibly teach the upcoming pas de deux class together and prepared himself for what he was about to witness as he made his way to the appropriate ballet studio.

Students he was starting to recognize were already in different spots of the classroom, chatting away with their friends while stretching. Adrien noted that Chloé and that girl she always bickers with, Lila, had yet to arrive. Looking for a space at the barre to stretch his calves out, he saw Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who quickly turned away from him to face the windowed wall of the studio. His expression fell because he didn’t know why she wouldn’t speak to him—or even look at him. She actually seemed to deliberately keep away from him with what felt like a three meter radius, and he had no idea why. Adrien initially brushed off her actions on Monday assuming Marinette was shy. But, the next day, she made it clear that she had no interest in talking to him. He had attempted to say “hello” to her before their literature lesson, but Marinette’s response was simply a dead stare until Chloé arrived and pulled him away.

Although she kept her distance from him, Adrien couldn’t help but watch Marinette in Monday’s Intermediate Ballet class. When Madame Pavlova had him take a spot next to her at the portable barre in the middle of the studio, the first thing he noticed was Marinette’s eyes—which he saw in the mirror because she didn’t even look at him. During their barre workouts, he watched the ribbon in her hair dance through the air while every movement seemed so natural for her; he only hoped it wasn’t clear to everyone else that he couldn’t stop watching her petite frame. Adrien’s throat felt thick. He didn’t know if he should even try to make small talk with her as they helped move the barre back to its storage space, and then it was time for center combinations. As the class split into two groups for Madame Pavlova to easily work with everyone, Adrien made sure to be in the opposite group as Marinette, so he could observe how she translated what Madame choreographed into her own graceful movements.

He had only had one dance period with Marinette so far, but it didn’t keep him from talking about her to Kagami over the phone Tuesday evening. “You don’t understand, Kagami,” Adrien insisted, throwing his hand up in the air to emphasize as if she could even see him, “Her technique is amazing, but I don’t know! You just have to see for yourself! It’s like you can’t keep your eyes off her when she moves!”

“Are you sure this isn’t because you’re not used to a dance class that also includes girls in fitted leotards and tights?” Kagami challenged him, making sure he remembered that although he may be a boy with proper upbringing, he was _still_ a _teenage_ boy.

“ _No_! That’s _not_ it, and you know it!” he uncomfortably claimed, beginning to feel flush at even considering that that’s why his eyes kept following the petite girl as she practically floated around the dance studios of Françoise Dupont. “And what sucks the most is that I don’t think she even likes me, and I don’t know why.”

He heard Kagami let out a slight laugh. “Oh, _I_ definitely know why.”

“Then tell me, since you’re the top queen of Deschamps,” he requested as politely as he could. _How could Kagami know when she’s never even met Marinette?_ he asked himself. He was confused, but figured it might have been ‘a girl thing’.

“Simple. Chloé Bourgeois,” and that was all she had to say.

Adrien didn’t want to admit that perhaps Kagami was right in this instance, especially when it involved Chloé, but he also didn’t enjoy debating Kagami either. She was always a fearsome opponent, in any challenge, and he _knew_ that even without attending his school, Kagami could still slaughter him with facts she knew about Chloé. And much to his annoyance, Kagami was typically, for the most part, always right. So Adrien was careful in how he approached his next statement, and he decided to concede her point by changing the topic of conversation.

Shaking his thoughts away and focusing on the present, Adrien decided to show Marinette that he respected her wishes to keep her distance from him. So he found an open spot at the opposite end of the barre. He could hear the whispers and he felt the stares around him as he propped his right leg up and stretched his torso and left arm above it. He was doing his best to ignore his surroundings, but his growing mental fatigue was beginning to weigh him down. All he needed to do was last until the end of Saturday’s lessons. He hoped that maybe Nathalie and his father would allow him to rest on Sunday after such an intense first week of school. _I really wish Kagami was here_ , he thought to himself. He truly was feeling lonely in this studio surrounded by other dancers, and all he wanted was to build sincere friendships with others who shared similar interests and goals.

“Adrikins!!!”

Adrien closed his eyes and flexed his jaw. This was not the ‘friend’ he wanted at this particular moment, but his patience reminded him to be grateful that Chloé was even in his life. He braced himself for whatever she wanted to talk about and did his best to pay attention while he continued to stretch his limbs.

Blue eyes and blonde hair appeared to his left, and he tried to greet Chloé with a smile. “Good morning, Chloé.”

She sidled up next to him, resting her elbows on the barre behind her, not even bothering to prepare her body for the upcoming lesson. “Aren’t you sooo excited for this partnering class?” she giggled.

“It’s all you’ve talked about the last few days,” he stated simply. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to her, but he also didn’t want to risk hurting her feelings. Even if Kagami was correct, and Chloé was possibly the reason why he was having difficulty getting to know people at school, he didn’t want to resent her either. _Chloé isn’t a bad person_ , Adrien reminded himself.

“Well, _of course_ , silly!” she continued to babble. “We are second years, and we finally get to take the pas de deux courses, and that means _we_ can be partners! Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

While Adrien didn’t exactly want to lie, he also didn’t know how to tell Chloé Bourgeois ‘no’. Still, he struggled to conjure up a response that didn’t tell her ‘yes’. 

“Do you actually know if they’ll even let us choose our own partners?” he innocently asked her, his eyes quickly darting over to see what Marinette was doing. She continued stretching, and she still refused to give him the time of day.

The question _did_ make Chloé think for a second, and he also wanted to see if Chloé would share why she didn’t like Marinette. She never explained the other day, and he had difficulty figuring out how to approach the topic with her again.

“Why wouldn’t they let us pick our partners? They couldn’t possibly pair up people who hate each other. That would be utterly ridiculous, don’t you think, Adrikins?” condemned Chloé, once she found her reasons. “Like, I can’t see why Veniamin and Madame would possibly pair _the_ Adrien Agreste with someone like...like _Dupain-Cheng_. That would be preposterous!”

That was his cue. “Wait - Chloé, why _don’t_ you like Marinette, again?” he asked her, attempting to not sound judgemental. While he was worried about being manipulative, he was just genuinely curious.

The mention of Marinette appeared to strike an irritated chord with Chloé, who swiftly crossed her arms in annoyance. She had an air of an upper class noble ready to reproach anyone who questioned her. “I’ve already told you, _Dupain-Cheng_ isn’t even worth your time. She is a self-righteous simpleton, and she is only a student here because she’s a scholarship student,” the blonde girl snapped. “She’s lucky she was even accepted and awarded the Aurelie Dupont scholarship, but it’s all because she’s a Grade A kiss-up.”

Adrien listened intently but Chloé’s list of reasons why Marinette was unworthy of their time didn’t seem like real deal breakers. In fact, finding out that she was _the_ Aurelie Dupont scholarship student left him even _more_ impressed with her abilities. He glanced her way again, and his curiosity about her continued to grow. Marinette didn’t appear arrogant either. In fact, when Madame Pavlova requested Marinette demonstrate the proper technique of a center sequence, Marinette went red. As she fluidly started with a _développé_ moving into an _écarté_ , a brief _effacé_ , plié, and then finished with a tendu into first arabesque, the bright scarlet hue softened to leave just a touch of pink on her cheeks which seemed to almost enhance her poised elegance. 

His thoughts were interrupted when Veniamin and Madame Pavlova entered the studio. Veniamin, a tall muscular man with thick dark waves of hair, looked about the same age as Madame yet his attitude was so lackadaisical in contrast to her severity. Adrien, however, did understand that Veniamin took his career seriously and no matter how kind and amicable he was, he definitely could be serious and give his sincere opinion in a blunt manner when necessary.

“ _Bonjour_ class!” Veniamin beamed with his arms spread open as if he could readily hug each student. “How are we all feeling today? I hope you all are ready for your _first_ pas de deux lesson since you are all now second years, yes?”

Madame Pavlova was silent. She scanned the room and checked to make sure each student was accounted for, as if she had the roster memorized, and Adrien wouldn’t be surprised if this was a true fact.

“ _Now_ , I know some of you may be a bit nervous, especially some of you _girls_ because that means getting close with the _boys_ , but I assure you, we will keep things PG. Well...perhaps PG-13 sometimes,” Veniamin winked before he continued, joking in his usual manner. “Perhaps having this class first thing Thursday mornings might help wake some of you up for the rest of the day!”

Some awkward laughter erupted, particularly from the boys who looked at their classmates nervously.

“Ven, seriously!” Madame snapped. The ballet master simply grinned and winked at her with a small wave as if to mellow any concern she had. Adrien wasn’t sure how to react, but he _did_ let a small smile appear as he did enjoy Veniamin’s commentary.

With a clap of his hands, Veniamin carried on with his class openings. “Before we begin with some warm ups at the barre, Madame Pavlova and I have a few things to go over with you all.”

Madame took a small step forward. “Now that you are second years at this school, it means there are more opportunities open to you. As you are aware, Veniamin, the other dance instructors, and I will keep sharp eyes on you all throughout the school term on top of the mandatory auditions for the Winter Workshop and End of the Year Workshop.”

“While most of you are probably aware of this, as many of you helped out with last year’s performances, these workshops are very key to your time here at Françoise Dupont,” Veniamin followed. “Not only are your dance abilities important and taken into great consideration, but we will also keep tabs on your academic studies as well.”

Adrien heard some groans. He looked over at Chloé when she audibly huffed and decidedly muttered, “Guess I’ll just have Sabrina do my homework then.” as she stared at her manicure.

“Françoise Dupont opens these workshops to the public, local critics, and even faculty from esteemed establishments,” Madame added. Her face kept the stern expression he remembered from Monday and wondered if she remembered him this time. “And by that I mean, if you are cast in either of these two workshops, you will have eyes from the Ballet de l’Opéra national de Paris watching _you_.”

Adrien followed her gaze to find that she was staring directly at Marinette. He wasn’t surprised, but he was also envious. He began to question that if he had had the opportunity to attend this school as a first year with most of the other students, that maybe Madame would also have high expectations for him as well. Marinette didn’t react to Madame’s attention, but she looked serious with fierce determination in her eyes. Adrien sighed and when he turned back to return his attention to the instructors, he was startled to find Madame’s eyes on _him_.

He almost absentmindedly wanted to respond to Madame’s attention with a question when she continued her speech. “These workshops will essentially serve as auditions for the summer intensive at the Ballet de l’Opéra national de Paris offered to students who qualify.”

Veniamin smiled, knowingly. “This means that some of you may be offered a spot in the summer intensive based on your performances alone,” he grinned to offer encouragement. “For others, the faculty may have you audition personally for them to see if you are truly fit for the program. And as a reminder, some of you may not even qualify for auditions _at all_.”

The energy in the studio seemed to be on a rollercoaster with their announcements. There was a mix of excitement that turned to dread and uncertainty. Whispers spread amongst each other as people began to wonder what the workshops would consist of and who they thought might be considered. None of this seemed to phase Marinette, Adrien noted. He wanted to know if she was naturally confident; maybe she knew she would be placed in the workshops and perform beautifully as always. He mused if _he_ would even be cast in the performances, and he wasn’t even going to start questioning the prospects of the summer intensive.

Veniamin clapped his hands again, and he turned to the classroom pianist, Monsieur Durand. “Now that’s enough excitement!” he announced. “Durand, if you could start us off with some music for these lovely students to warm up to? Then Madame and I will observe you and decide how to pair you all off!”

That led to an outburst from Chloé. “What?! We don’t get to _choose_ who we partner with?!”

The room fell silent, and Durand had barely placed his fingers against the piano keys.

Madame Pavlova did not even move her body, but slowly turned her head to find the source of the objections. Before she could speak, Veniamin placed a hand on Madame’s shoulder.

“Is there an issue, Mademoiselle Bourgeois?” he asked. His smile was gone, and Adrien felt secondhand embarrassment creeping up. All eyes were on Chloé.

“Yes, there is _completely_!” Chloé whined. “I thought we could choose who we dance with in this class. It’s _only_ right.”

A cold silence swept across the studio, and Adrien hoped his friend would figure out that she had crossed a line sooner rather than later.

“If you have a problem with how Veniamin and I conduct our class, then _you_ , Chloé Bourgeois, are free to leave,” Madame ordered. Her voice was icy, and she stood her ground. It was very clear to Adrien that Madame did not care about Chloé's opinions or how she expressed them even if Chloé dared to threaten to call her father, Mayor Bourgeois. 

Adrien was about to softly tell Chloé to calm down before she continued to dig her grave when she pouted and attempted to defend her outburst. “I mean, what’s so wrong with us pairing up with people we know and like anyway?”

Madame stared Chloé directly in the eye in such a way that Adrien hoped he was never on the receiving end. He didn’t understand how Chloé didn’t combust into flames and smoke on the spot next to him. Everyone else was scared to speak, but he did see Lila was smirking a few spots away, and Marinette still didn’t look in their direction. Some others were speechless, mouths agape, and in complete shock that Chloé would really challenge Madame.

Veniamin didn’t even dare step in. With his arms crossed and wearing an austere expression that rarely appeared on his face, he didn’t break his eye contact with the petulant girl several meters away. Adrien could practically feel that Veniamin _knew_ Madame would certainly shut her up.

“Mademoiselle Bourgeois, if you wish to continue this behavior, then you can be sure _I_ _will_ deliberate with the rest of the school’s faculty and will _personally_ bring to question if you truly deserve to be graced with a spot here at Françoise Dupont,” Madame Pavlova condemned. It wasn’t a question or a threat; it was definitely a guarantee. Madame didn’t fear anyone, and she knew her opinion was respected. No amount of money from Mayor Bourgeois could keep his daughter enrolled, and Chloé would most certainly be blacklisted from other art schools by Madame’s command alone.

Chloé remained silent. It was rare for any adult to really put Chloé in her place, and Madame never hesitated. Chloé simply retreated, backing slowly up against the barre with her head hanging. Adrien truly did feel sorry for her and offered comfort by resting a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t agree with how she had acted, but he wasn’t sure if Madame was right to single his friend out like that in front of the other students.

Monsieur Durand awkwardly coughed and began to fill the studio with music floating from his grand piano. Madame quickly commanded the class to a normal barre routine of pliés in first position to rise into _relevé_ as she and Veniamin observed each student while taking mental notes. Adrien was focused on his turn out and arms, but his mind wandered; his curiosity of _who_ the two instructors would pair him with ate at him.

* * *

  
Marinette could see the golden hair at the other end of the classroom as she faced that direction, her left hand resting on the handrail for support. She was busy with staying on beat with Monsieur Durand’s piano keys. She focused on keeping her arms soft yet steady and maintaining grace and support flowing from her shoulders to her fingertips. Despite this, her bright blue eyes would still catch sight of Adrien Agreste’s shimmering hair, and she would have to concentrate twice as hard to not slip up.

As she turned to face the opposite direction, this time placing her right hand on the barre, Marinette would quickly glance around the room at the other boys in the class. Up until this year, the dance classes were separated by gender due to the differences in technique and focuses. Other than the pas de deux lessons that they were just starting, the boys joined the girls in one other period for Ballet Intermediate, otherwise the boys and girls stayed separated. Sometimes, she and the other girls would observe the tail end of some of the boys’ classes, just to see what they were working on in comparison. She didn’t really know _any_ of the male students that well due to the lack of interaction, and she couldn’t gauge if she could trust any of them as a potential pas de deux partner. She noted some of them in the class on Monday, but none really caught her attention specifically.

Adrien Agreste was already on her personal blacklist, she made _that_ very clear to herself. She _did_ watch his performance in Monday’s class, and she didn’t want to admit that it was difficult to focus on their barre routine when she could feel him watching the back of her head while they had to face the same direction. When it came time to turn and mirror the movements for their other legs and arms, perhaps she did catch a glance or two at his toned and defined body, and this was a fact she wouldn’t share with _anyone_.

He was a talented dancer, and Marinette kind of hated him for it. _Maybe he got in just on penis points alone_ , she let the thought trail through her mind when she watched him during their rotating center combinations. It was the one of the many gripes she had with the ballet and dance industry: male dancers getting by on what she called “penis points” because the industry wanted to retain the attention of the public and keep the interest of prospective young male dancers. She _knew_ it was a female dominated career, but it still didn’t make it right that the boys could potentially slide by with barely above par abilities and achieve success. Marinette had certainly ranted about it to Luka many times, who definitely understood her frustration and could only support her by letting her vent.

It was already difficult that she had to work twice as hard to be noticed just because she was a girl, but it was also hard knowing there were clear racial boundaries and hurdles she would have to cross as well. When she was eleven years old, she was devastated when one director insisted that although she had the talent and stage presence, they could not cast her as Clara in their performance of _The Nutcracker_ simply because Marinette was half-Chinese. It hit her harder when they cast Chloé as Clara instead, and Marinette had to be happy as one of the party guests in Act One and then Chinese Tea (how _convenient_ ) and as a polichinelle in Act Two.

She did her best to tell herself that she had more fun that way, since all Clara did in Act Two was sit on a stupid throne with the Nutcracker Prince. Marinette sat on it briefly when she and Alix were messing around during dress rehearsal and they learned as plush as the stage techs made it appear, it was solid plywood. No matter how much Chloé gloated at how wonderful it was to be Clara, she and Alix both knew her butt was sore as heck when they caught her stretching and walking around as much as possible the second the curtains closed. Despite not being the main character in the limelight, her parents along with Luka, Juleka, and Rose found her backstage with bouquets of flowers, and she knew they enjoyed the magic as well.

Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed while she concentrated on the next barre routine Madame Pavlova ordered from the class. On top of Adrien Agreste being a male dancer (penis points), he also came from money (along with his dad being a valuable donor to the school), an academy legacy (Alya had done some digging and found out his mother was a Françoise Dupont alumnus), well-connected, white, and to top it off: friends with _Chloé Bourgeois_. She complained about all of this to Luka on their day off on Wednesday while he worked his shift at the bakery.

“Marinette, he can’t help who his family is,” Luka softly reminded her, figuring it’d help balance her rabid emotions when she punched a bag of flour. “I don’t think he can really help the fact that he’s white _either_.” The scene before him definitely made him laugh, because with all of the punching, Marinette was covered in flour from her chest to her feet.

Marinette didn’t care though. “It’s still not FAIR! And now he just _waltzes_ into OUR school like it’s no big deal?! Luka, you _know_ how much I HATE the penis point system!!!”

Some of the flour flew up into her face, and she let out a squeaky sneeze, which alerted her father to see what was happening in the back of the house. Annoyed by his daughter exploding flour in the store kitchen, Tom Dupain made sure she mopped and swept it to the point that it was sparkling clean. When Marinette got her dad’s approval that she had made up for her transgressions against the innocent ingredients, she changed into fresh clothes and helped Luka make deliveries via his bicycle. Luka suggested it, knowing it would help her take her mind off of the cursed Adrien Agreste.

Marinette was actually able to successfully forget about him the rest of the day as she worked on her academic homework with Luka, Juleka, and Rose later that evening. When they had finally completed their studying, Alya and Nino arrived to join them on the _la Liberté_ , as well as Ivan and Mylène. With their intimate party growing, it was fun to see the music kids collaborate and improvise (Luka always insisted how practice was essential). Marinette was gossiping away with Alya when Alix arrived with Max and Kim, both of whom they hadn’t seen in awhile since they went to a different school. She had missed them dearly, especially Kim, who always enjoyed pressing her buttons. He was happily bragging about how he was dating someone, a girl named Ondine, who was also a talented swimmer like him. He kept asking when she and the other Françoise Dupont kids would come by Deschamps to see one of his swim meets. She was grateful for her friends, and even prouder for all that they had accomplished already. Taking in the scene before her, the warm evening on the Couffaine houseboat surrounded by people she loved, she took a mental photograph, never wanting to forget a moment like it.

That’s why on Thursday morning Marinette was annoyed when she saw Adrien walk into the studio before their first pas de deux class because she was forcibly reminded of his existence. She _knew_ she could be civil; years of growing up with Luka gradually helped temper her quick anger, especially with Chloé and Lila. While she silently agreed that _maybe_ Luka was right about Adrien not being able to help the fact that he _is_ Adrien Agreste, she was also stubborn. Marinette just also didn’t like the fact he didn’t _seem_ completely cocky either because it would have been easy to add that to her ongoing list of ‘Reasons to Stay Away from Adrien Agreste’. Her plan was to engage as little as possible, which is why all she could think of to avoid him was looking out of the windowed wall of the studio when she accidentally met his gaze while stretching before class.

 _He’s just some dumb golden child, that’s all_ , Marinette grumbled in her head, and she probably was gripping her ankle too hard. _He’s good because his dad can afford the best private ballet instructors, and it’s annoying he’s even here_. She peeked a quick look over to where he situated himself, as far away from her as possible (thank goodness). Even from where she stood, she could see an air of sadness around him, but she shook her head. Her dance classes consisted of time needed for her to better herself and her skills; _not_ worry about some sad rich boy. If Adrien Agreste was sad about something, he had his friend Chloé to help him, she figured.

As Marinette was holding the arabesque at the barre that Veniamin commanded of the class, she wondered what Adrien would do if Madame called for Chloé Bourgeois’ removal from the school. It didn’t matter, though, and she let out a long breath when Veniamin said they could finish and close in fifth position.

It was time for the students to come together in the center of the studio, and Veniamin and Madame Pavlova studied each person. With everyone facing the mirror, Marinette looked down the line at the male students, trying to remember the strengths of each one she had observed in Monday’s class period. She recalled how quick and light on his feet Benjamin was, but she noticed he was about the same height as her and to be frank, it might make pairing him up with anyone difficult. Olivier, a young man with a bronze complexion was very strong, but also was the opposite of Benjamin; he was _very_ tall, maybe the tallest student in the entire school. The ballet instructors would need a girl who was closer in his height so it wouldn’t be a distraction. Marinette assumed they would probably pair him with Clementine, a fit girl with good height, and Marinette envied her ebony skin color. She thought it made Clementine’s eyes shine brighter, and she loved how they lit up more when she danced.

Then there was Théo Barbot. Marinette just didn’t like him and how he styled his hair, but she also probably held a grudge against him with how he treated Alix in their collège art classes.

Madame Pavlova and Veniamin began pairing the students up (Marinette was correct about them having Clementine dance with Olivier), and she held her breath. 

“Chloé, move here,” Madame pointed to a now open spot a few meters away from where the blonde was standing. When Marinette saw the teachers pair Chloé with Théo, she clenched her hands together and looked down, a quick attempt to not snicker. Marinette _knew_ Chloé couldn’t stand him. 

She could hear Chloé try to not yell her disgust. “Ugh, this is _ridiculous_.”

Looking back up into the mirror, Marinette saw Lila take this opportunity to scoot closer to Adrien, as if to give the instructors an obvious suggestion. She rolled her blue eyes, but not before she noticed Adrien’s chrysolite ones catch hers in the reflection. She didn’t know if she felt herself blush out of embarrassment, because he caught her showing a bit of attitude or simply because they made eye contact, _again_. Marinette felt conflicted, hoping Madame Pavlova would call out Lila’s name to be Adrien’s partner, so she could finally breathe, but she also knew that if that happened, Lila would seriously never shut up.

Veniamin moved closer to a boy named Sébastien, studying his height and muscular build. “Lila,” the man waved at her, “Come here, I want you to stand here next to Séb.” Veniamin had a habit of giving students nicknames when he couldn’t be bothered to say their full given name.

“Yes, this works,” Madame confirmed. Lila looked displeased, and Marinette thought Sébastien appeared unbothered. He was a boy that she couldn’t really get a good read on, but she quickly realized who was left who had yet to be paired off. It was between Aurore, a tall boy named Matthieu, Adrien, and herself.

Marinette sucked in another breath, holding it tightly in her ribs. She didn’t care if she passed out, all she knew was that she wasn’t ready for whatever decision Madame and Veniamin were about to make. She couldn’t remember anything about Matthieu’s abilities or physical strength, but she hoped he was at least decent.

“Aurore, you’ll be with Matthieu,” Madame commanded, and she slowly looked between the two students who had yet to be assigned partners. “And that leaves us with…”

“Adrien with Marinette!” Veniamin clapped his hands.

Marinette didn’t let herself breathe, but she felt her stomach drop. She wasn’t prepared for this. “Adrien, if you please, make your way over to Marinette, so we can get a final look of the pairs,” Madame calmly requested.

She could see him out of the corner of her left eye, and his reflection made his way into her line of vision as she stared straight into the mirror. Marinette did not want to showcase any reaction towards him or the teachers’ decision. Adrien sent her a slight smile through their reflections, to acknowledge her existence, but her mind was blank, unable to think of how to respond.

“Now, there’s no guarantee these pairs are permanent,” Veniamin announced, breaking the somewhat tense silence of the studio. “There's always a chance some of you just won’t...what is it you all say? _Vibe_?”

“But, we will not accept complaints without actual reasons,” Madame enunciated, knowing who would surely be upset with their assignments. “Now let's finally see if you all are actually ready for pas de deux.”

Veniamin nodded to Monsieur Durand for the musician to start playing music as he and Madame collaborated on what easy steps the classroom pairs could start with. Marinette wasn’t ready to face her assigned partner, but of course, that is what Madame ordered. Her bangs were heavy over her eyes, unwilling to look up at the boy in front of her. _Why are they punishing me?!_ Marinette screamed internally. _This is just a weird test from Madame. It has to be_.

Adrien looked down to her, offering his hand, as that was part of Veniamin’s choreography. He decided to quietly break the silence between them with a simple, “Are you ready?”

She gulped, still not meeting his gaze. Marinette steadily took his hand and lifted her slight frame onto her toes, _sur les points_. A chill took over her entire body, and she didn’t feel properly warmed up even though they had spent about twenty-five minutes at the barre already. She wasn’t ready for this.

Bringing her right arm out as she brought her right leg into a perfectly positioned _attitude_ , Marinette finally looked up at Adrien who was smiling, holding her steady with ease.

“You can trust me,” he whispered, helping her into a triple pirouette, delicately gripping her waist.

She _couldn’t_.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, for the first time in her career at Françoise Dupont, forgot the rest of the choreography and froze. Unsure what to do, and despite Adrien’s reassurance, she took a step out of place, and slipped—her heart feeling like it leapt out of her own chest. Adrien reacted quickly, catching her by the waist, but she didn’t want his help. Out of panic, she pushed him away, and she slid down to the studio floor.

With everyone staring, and receiving a look of concern from Adrien Agreste, she stared at her reflection in shock, and all Marinette wanted to do was cry. Not even ten minutes into dancing with him, and she already made herself look like a fool and not just to him, but the entire class, Veniamin, and Madame Pavlova too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @KellBell39 and Kayla for editing (as always)!
> 
> Shout out to Sukii for beta reading <3
> 
> Chapter Four is complete, but I'll post it next Saturday to keep a consistent updating pace (until it possibly slows down due to my work schedule). Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to a group of people in a certain Discord Server <3

For the first time in her Françoise Dupont life, Marinette didn’t want to be at school, even if it was a ballet class. No matter how many times Chloé and Lila got to her, it never kept her away from wanting to attend or holding a perfect attendance. There were times she was sick, and despite her parents’ wishes she still forced herself to be present—even if the ballet instructors would have her sit and watch to avoid making herself more ill. Marinette _had_ to keep her grades up and perform well; not just for her scholarship requirements, but for her _dreams_.

It was their Saturday pas de deux class, and Marinette even considered faking sick. She didn’t want a repeat of the disaster that occurred Thursday when she danced with Adrien Agreste for the first time. In fact, she hoped Veniamin and Madame Pavlova had reviewed the events of that lesson and reconsidered their partnership, but instead she was now stuck, facing the tall blond in front of her. All she could do was replay the catastrophic events of Thursday’s pas de deux class, and she wanted their first week of school to be over already. The rest of that day and Friday, Marinette made sure to be with her friends, particularly Luka, and she paid special attention to keep away from Adrien if it seemed like he would make an attempt to come near her. The fact that the male dance students didn’t share the same classes with the female students except for the one intermediate class and the two pas de deux periods greatly helped Marinette.

After she fell the first time in class on Thursday, Marinette picked herself back up before a tear could fall, refusing Adrien’s offer to help her. She had assured Madame Pavlova and Veniamin she was fine, and that perhaps she just wasn’t used to depending on another person before.

“It will come with time,” Veniamin reassured her with a calm glance. Madame Pavlova stayed silent, and the class restarted. Monsieur Durand found himself playing the same keys on the piano, and everyone began smoothly—until, this time, Marinette was startled when she felt Adrien’s hand against the small of her back, and she wound up smacking him in the face with her arms as she turned. Accidentally, of course.

With every new routine and variation, it was always something. It was never Adrien’s fault. She wished it would be his fault. He was patient and never complained, only letting a few exclamations of surprise slip followed by Marinette’s insistent apologies. She kicked his hand—hard, when raising her leg into a développé, but she _knew_ how to do this movement correctly. A few more rounds of accidentally smacking Adrien with her arms and hands, a few other bouts of slipping, with him always ready to catch her. The moment that finally marked the class as a completed ninety minutes of embarrassment that Marinette would like to forget forever was when she somehow missed the timing and fell forward. With Adrien having to catch her, Marinette fell into him, and her hands had somehow landed around his butt. 

Marinette was mortified, and despite Adrien telling her it was really okay she ran away from him as soon as the class was over. While they were in the dressing room, Lila feigned concern over Marinette’s performance and suggested that _she_ could take Marinette’s place as Adrien’s partner in the next class. Marinette didn’t respond as she slipped her crewneck sweatshirt over her ballet uniform and ripped her pointe shoes off. Her only goal at that moment was to get her warm up shorts on and run out of the room before she could hear what Chloé had to say. She felt _clunky_ , and heavy, and so disappointed in herself.

She was _never_ so clumsy before, especially not when she was dancing. Sure, Marinette had her moments, normally in her parents’ bakery... and that one time when she wasn’t paying attention and almost fell off the side of la Liberté (fortunately Juleka and Rose caught her). She even had to be careful when she would embroider unique personalizations onto her bags and clothes. Luka often helped her re-ravel countless skeins of yarn and thread spools that she dropped. When it came to dance, however, her curse of being a klutz had never plagued her. _That is,_ _until she had to dance with Adrien Agreste_.

Marinette attempted to appear smaller, hoping that no one would notice her when she entered the dance studio, but she was unsuccessful. Adrien spotted her right away and swiftly made his way to her at the barre.

“Are you feeling better today?” Adrien asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence between them. Marinette crossed her arms, as if she were trying to hide. She felt the glare coming from Chloé’s steely blue eyes before catching the smug look of superiority from Lila behind Adrien. _If Chloé wants to so desperately dance with her ‘Adrikins’ then she can have him,_ Marinette rolled her eyes.

She didn’t mean for Adrien to see that, and she felt bad when he apologized. “I...I’m not sure what I did to make you so upset with me,” he stammered a bit. “If you’re uncomfortable dancing with me, then I can talk to Veniamin and -”

“N-no! It’s fine,” Marinette forced herself to say. She couldn’t figure out how to tell him that she wanted nothing to do with him, and that it wasn’t _necessarily_ his fault, when he really did seem sincerely concerned about her. The possibility of Adrien having had previous acting classes floated through her mind, and she wondered if he was actually being genuine or not. Although, she conceded with herself, this might be a little far even for her.

She watched him as he reached his arm back and rubbed his neck nervously. He also seemed to have difficulty looking at her. “Are...are you sure?” his light green eyes looking down at the floor. Several of his blonde eyelashes reflected the studio lights. “I don’t want you to get hurt if it’s because of _me_. I mean, you’re a really good dancer, and I’d hate for it to be my fault…and I don’t know...”

Marinette squeezed her left arm. She was beginning to feel rather guilty. “It’s fine. I think I just have to get used to _this_ ,” she tried to reassure him. She couldn’t look at him, because she felt like she was lying in some way even though what she said had _some_ truth to it. “I mean...we _all_ haven’t really partnered with anyone before.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Adrien grinned, still with a layer of shyness. “Especially me. I’m not used to school in general.” He laughed a little. 

Marinette stayed silent, feeling too awkward and unsure of what to say next. She wanted Thursday’s class to just be a weird fluke, but an uncomfortable feeling gnawed at her, telling her that she would be cursed again. In her other classes, she was completely fine; her technique needed very little adjustment, the choreography came with ease, and she even thought she caught Madame Pavlova slip a smile her way on Friday. _If this class doesn’t go smoothly today…then Adrien Agreste is definitely bad luck_ , Marinette thought.

Adrien watched her as she rubbed her ladybug earrings to busy herself. “Ah, those are really nice earrings. Ladybugs right?” he correctly guessed, merely attempting to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah-I mean...yes,” Marinette hesitated. She wanted to curl into the fetal position because she really hated small talk, and it was even worse when it was awkward. “They were a gift.”

Thankfully, Veniamin and Madame Pavlova appeared before the stiff conversation was forced to continue. Adrien swiftly took his place at the barre next to Marinette, although she wished he would go back over to where Chloé was. While the ballet instructors went over the roster, making sure each student was accounted for, Marinette rubbed her arms, trying to release the goosebumps that rose up from the chill in the air. Her first two dance periods this morning had gone well, she reminded herself. All she had to do was get through these next two hours of this dreaded class (hopefully without any issues this time), and then she could be free to run as far away from Adrien as possible.

Veniamin decided since the students already had two periods of dance already, they didn’t really need much time at the barre, causing Marinette to tense and grip the barre harder. She wasn’t ready to be thrown into choreography with Adrien so close to her, holding her, and catching her. He turned to look at her, shooting her a gentle smile.

It was only their second _pas_ class of the term, and Madame Pavlova had several techniques she wanted the students to focus on today. Marinette’s stomach flipped as Madame explained how she wanted everyone thinking about their points of balance for turns and being aware of their facial expressions. This class was about _trust_ , and they couldn’t achieve any other class goal until that was accomplished.

“And let me remind _everyone_ ,” she spoke firmly, while Veniamin went over what music Monsieur Durand should play. “ _Always_ listen to your partner. Do not be offended by their criticism. This will help the both of you grow and trust each other.”

“Coretti, what do you think of starting with the ‘ _The Nutcracker pas de deux’_ ?” Veniamin turned to Madame, respecting her thoughts. “It’s an adagio, so it’ll be slow, and everyone can focus on their core and _each other_.”

Madame nodded in agreement. The both of them reviewed the first minute of the choreography, with Madame demonstrating the movements of the Sugar Plum Fairy for the girls and Veniamin as her Cavalier (also known as ‘Prince Coqueluche’ in some productions). The sequence of steps were fairly easy, yet Marinette watched intently. She was quite capable of doing what Madame and Veniamin expected of her and _more_ , but her biggest issue was standing right next to her. She looked up at him, feeling the movement of her hair ribbon brush against the nape of her neck, and it sent goosebumps down her bare spine. Madame’s words replayed in Marinette’s mind, _‘Trust each other.’_

Adrien must have felt Marinette staring at him, because he looked down at her and gave her a slight grin. She squeaked, and turned back to watch their instructors. She hated how she could _feel_ the redness appearing across her cheeks and neck.

Adrien and Marinette were in the first group of pairs to attempt the choreography, and Marinette became very aware of how tall Adrien was in comparison to her. _Luka is still taller than him though_ , she noted. The blond boy nodded at her, and she grew flustered again, feeling like he could hear her thoughts. She decided to keep useless musings out of her mind and concentrate on the task in front of her—to perform well in this class and to _not_ worry about Adrien Agreste.

Veniamin suggested doing away with the beginning of the pas de deux routine due to lack of space, so Monsieur Durand began only a few seconds before the Sugar Plum Fairy’s Cavalier meets her for a noble bow and offers his hand. Even though Durand was not a complete orchestra, he still managed to capture the romantic setting of Tchaikovsky’s adagio. Following what Veniamin requested, Adrien, along with the other male dancers in the group, bowed to their partners as the girls met them with their arms open and en pointe in fifth position.

Marinette held her breath when she took Adrien’s left hand with her right, and she lifted her right leg high as possible in front of her. Adrien watched her intensely, but she couldn’t meet his gaze, and Madame caught it immediately.

“Marinette, look at your partner.”

That only left Marinette wishing that she was allowed to turn her head 180 degrees, so she _wouldn’t_ have to look at him. Adrien’s hand was warm, and she did her best to look at him, even as he turned her for an incomplete pirouette. She really wanted everything to appear effortless, but instead, it looked heavy and horrible.

She didn’t understand how he could keep smiling, and it only frustrated her more.

“Stop staring at me,” she curtly whispered. Marinette regretted saying it the moment it left her tongue, and she could see how quickly it affected Adrien. He looked away, attempting to respect her irrational demand, and his arm went with him. He had swiftly forgotten that he was Marinette’s human barre.

Before Marinette toppled to the floor at the loss of her partner, Adrien quickly realized what he accidentally caused, and quickly caught her, his arm around her waist. If Marinette didn’t want to stare and meet Adrien’s gaze before, she was certainly forced into it in the position they were in now. Marinette was physically close to him the other day, but this time she could smell his cologne that was mingling slightly with his sweat. The sour fragrance of green plums mixed with citrus brightened the air between them, but she was also close enough to catch hints of vanilla and amber wood. This realization startled Marinette more, and she thought she would pass out the longer Adrien kept staring at her.

Monsieur Durand continued playing the piano while Veniamin asked what had happened. “Are you both okay?” he asked the awkward pair. He was genuinely concerned, while Madame watched them from a distance.

Marinette, her arms still around Adrien’s neck, locked eyes with Madame.

“Y-yes, Veniamin. Sorry,” she stammered. Disappointed in herself, Marinette immediately let go, finding her balance and to recollect herself from another disaster. As if to reassure her, Adrien gently placed his hand on her back, but his touch on her bare back gave her a jump and raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“Ah, sorry…” Adrien trailed off, quickly bringing his hand to his neck out of his own embarrassment. Veniamin looked between the two teens and decided it was time to alternate groups.

While Marinette made her way to find an open spot to watch against the wall, Lila flashed her a smug look. Although no one else could see, Marinette rolled her eyes. She was annoyed with everything already, and shot Adrien a look so he wouldn’t come near her (and it appeared he took the wordless hint).

Sébastien wasn’t a bad dancer at all, and actually helped hide some of Lila’s mistakes, which sunk Marinette’s mood even more. She looked over at Chloé and Théo, and while Chloé didn’t _like_ him, they also were dancing well (even if somewhat mediocre). The negative thoughts continued to cloud Marinette’s brain, and she struggled to ignore it all. _I need to focus on myself_ , she kept chanting internally, _but...I have to also focus on my partner too? How?!_ The only thing that made her feel slightly better was when Veniamin briefly caught Chloé trying to blame her poor technique on Théo, and the two students began to bicker at which point he told them both to hush. Marinette then looked over at Clementine and Olivier, and she smiled; they really did make a beautiful pair. There were very few mistakes, and while she was envious, the way they danced made her see the magic of pas de deux.

Adrien found her again when it was their group’s turn to try the choreography a second time. Veniamin and Madame wanted it _perfect_ from everyone this time.

“Remember! You are actors too! Girls, you _love_ your cavaliers,” Veniamin commanded, acting as the Sugar Plum Fairy. Although he was a male dancer and instructor, even Veniamin could capture the romantic trance that the Sugar Plum Fairy held for her prince. “Make us _believe it_.”

This time, Madame Pavlova stepped forward, her arms still crossed. “Especially _you_ , Marinette.”

Marinette’s eyes widened in a mixture of shock and embarrassment. Adrien, once again, looked at her with encouragement.

“We can do this, alright?” he tried to dispel any insecurity she had.

Marinette took his hand, and met Adrien’s eyes this time, but she couldn’t give him a genuine smile. She just wanted to get through the sequence without an issue. She could work on her acting skills later because she simply wasn’t in the mood to dote on someone she didn’t know, or at least, didn’t even _want_ to know.

Veniamin as if he could read her thoughts, interjected. “I only believe Adrien when it comes to feeling the _love_ between you both, Mari.”

Marinette winced as Adrien held her in fifth position, and she raised her arms—only Luka called her ‘Mari’, and it was jarring to hear anyone else call her that. Another wince immediately followed, caused by Adrien’s breath against the back of her neck. She stiffened; she wasn’t comfortable and she didn’t know how to hide it.

The pair of ballet teachers looked worn out, after the second group stumbled through their next attempt at the pas de deux. Even Monsieur Durand’s piano began to sound dull, and Marinette wondered if this first week of school was about to set the tone for the rest of the term. If so, she was _very_ worried. She looked over as Veniamin and Madame Pavlova quietly discussed what to do next.

Veniamin turned to the class, clapping his hands together once. “Alright, how about we all have a fifteen minute break?” he suggested. “It’s been a long first week of school and also quite a morning. Take a break, and let’s come back refreshed, okay?”

A wave of relief seemed to crash against the dance studio floors. Everyone was tired, and they were all in agreement—thank goodness it was Saturday, meaning it was only a half day. Marinette quickly went to the girls’ dressing room to grab her water bottle. She was exhausted and parched for one too many reasons. She was a little startled when Clementine checked in on her because she always forgot how tall Clementine really was next to her.

“Yeah! Yeah...I’ll be okay,” Marinette reassured her. “Thanks though.”

Clementine was an introverted girl, but Marinette always appreciated how kind she was. She never even fought with Chloé, who had a knack for getting under peoples’ skin. As she followed Clementine back into the studio, she could hear that same blonde girl’s irritating voice mixing with Lila’s grossly sweet tones, yet they weren’t exactly talking to each other; just _at_ anyone who was within hearing range. And Adrien just happened to be in that range.

Marinette recognized the look of feigned concern on Lila’s face as she spoke to Adrien. “I feel so sorry for you, Adrien!” Lila cooed, touching his arm. “Marinette should _really_ be paired with someone closer to her skill level. It’s _so_ unfortunate that you got stuck with her.”

“You’d think a scholarship student like _Dupain-Cheng_ would be a better dancer,” Chloé clung to Adrien’s other arm. They couldn’t see Marinette standing behind them, and the other students that had stayed in the studio got nervous. Marinette also acknowledged how rare it was for Chloé and Lila to actually agree on something, however, it appeared Adrien Agreste was a common goal for the both of them. And, naturally, Marinette was in the way. Clementine reached her arm out before Marinette could stomp over.

Adrien was about to say something, but Lila let out a fake gasp. “Oh my gosh, you shouldn’t be so mean to those less fortunate, Chloé! She _is_ only a baker’s daughter after all.”

“Haha! That must be why her legs are as stiff as baguettes!” Chloé cackled, holding the back of her hand to cover her mouth.

“You’re both just spoiled incompetent brats!” Marinette shouted. She had had enough, and she looked like she was ready to throw her water bottle at anyone.

Adrien, Chloé, and Lila all turned to face her; Adrien in shock, Chloé with an incredulous look of annoyance, and Lila smug—as always. Marinette was ready to explode, and she felt she didn’t have to deal with their horrible gossip just because they couldn’t get their way.

“Just because you can’t get your daddy to pay for everything you _think_ you deserve,” Marinette chastised the three, temper piquing, “Doesn’t mean you need to hate on everyone else who actually works hard!”

She wasn’t going to cry; that was always her main rule, in particular when it came to dealing with Chloé Bourgeois and Lila Rossi. No matter how cruel, Marinette would not let them see her break, but this week was getting to her, and she just wanted to get through the rest of this class to go home and rest. She just _needed_ to sort out what was going on with her.

Adrien stepped towards her, looking at the other two vengeful girls. “Marinette has a point you know,” he began, when Marinette quickly swatted him away.

She was somehow much angrier now. It all came down to _him_ , and she didn’t want _him_ to come running to fight battles she needed to take care of on her own. “Shut up, Agreste!” she snapped angrily, gripping her bottle. “This isn’t about you! I don’t need you to tell _your_ friends to quit bullying me! Why are you even here at this school instead of playing model?!”

The air felt heavy and thick in the studio; it was tense, and Marinette’s rising anger made it unbearable. She glared at Chloé and Lila, the main reasons why she was angry, and looked at Adrien. He was speechless and most of all, hurt.

“How about you all just learn how to shut up and get better at dancing for once?!” Marinette continued to rant, when Clementine reached out to her to offer her comfort.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Everyone went cold, and the scent of cigarette smoke wafted from Madame Pavlova and Veniamin. They both had their arms crossed, and the group of teens turned slowly to face them in near unison. Veniamin’s black turtleneck made his expression even darker, and Madame’s cold stare was a knife through Marinette’s heart. Marinette wasn’t sure how to respond, and she wanted to fly as far away as possible.

“This is not how we behave in this school, and _you_ , of all people should know better, Marinette,” Madame Pavlova continued. “Explain yourself.”

Marinette met her instructors’ gazes, and her lips trembled, unsure of what to say. Blaming the other three students would be immature even if it _is_ true, and it would only be seen as an excuse. Madame was right; Marinette knew better than to let them get to her. “I-I am deeply sorry, Madame. And Veniamin,” she replied softly, not wanting to break eye contact with them.

Veniamin looked around the studio before turning back to her. “We will talk after class, Marinette,” he spoke sternly. “If you still have a problem, perhaps you should sit out for the rest of it and wait for us to finish with everyone else.”

“No. She will stay and work with Adrien. I don’t care what issues they have,” Madame refuted. Veniamin nodded, simply conceding with his colleague. Marinette held her ground, to not whine and pout; she had to do as she was told. “But _we will_ be talking after class today.”

Marinette silently nodded, and Clementine gave her a soft squeeze on her shoulder, as if to remind Marinette that she still had a friend in the class.

The rest of the class didn’t go well for Marinette. She was in agony, worried about what was to come after her outburst. She fumbled through each step, and she couldn’t even look at Adrien, which definitely added to her poor performance. Even after she yelled at him, Adrien did his best for her as her partner and still smiled for her. No matter how many smiles he gave her, Marinette knew he was hurt and that she should apologize to him.

 _But I don’t want to_ , she fought with herself, and it was a constant internal battle.

By the end of the class, Marinette looked at herself in the studio mirrors. She really did look drained, her hair was falling out of her bun more than usual, and her jaw was tense. She could barely breathe because she was waiting for Madame Pavlova and Veniamin to scold her privately.

Slipping on a light grey sweatshirt that bore the school’s emblem across the chest, denim shorts over her ballet uniform, and rolling her transition tights so she could slip on her white tennis shoes, she gripped her dance bag. Veniamin and Madame told Marinette to meet them in Madame’s office when she was ready, and she didn’t dare look at Chloé or Adrien as she made her way down the halls. She tightened her grip when she heard Lila snicker when Marinette walked passed, so tight that her nails left imprints in her palm.

Veniamin opened the door to Madame’s office and calmly told her to have a seat. Madame Pavlova, with her arms crossed, sat on the edge of the pristine white desk before Marinette. She was a minimalist with her decorating, aside from fresh cut flowers and plants.

“How are you feeling, Mari?” Veniamin broke the silence. His use of her rare nickname helped Marinette feel a little more at ease. “Do you want to talk to us about what happened?”

Before Marinette could utter a word, Madame spoke. “Ven, I think it’s quite clear what transpired today.”

Marinette was stunned. She tried to speak, sitting tensely with arms stiff as her hands rested in fists on her knees. It was the only way she could appear before them with proper posture, even though she wanted to just collapse into the chair as if she were a melted gummy candy.

“Ah, I know, I was just curious as to what Mari had to say,” Veniamin nodded, taking the empty seat next Marinette.

Marinette looked back and forth between the two of them. “U-uhm. All I can say is that I’m very sorry for my outburst today,” she stuttered, nervously. “It is not at all the impression I’d like to leave with _you_ , Veniamin, sir. As Madame has said, I _do_ know better, and this isn’t how I wanted to start my second year here at Françoise Dupont.”

She didn’t know what they were going to say, and so she held her breath and rubbed one of her earrings.

“Marinette,” Madame started, her voice firm yet with a gentle touch. “I am not so much concerned about how you reacted, but it’s about _to whom_ you reacted. You are still young, you’re growing, and this is high school.”

“What do you mean? I know that yelling at Chloé and Lila isn’t a solution, they’re always-”

“ _Not_ Mademoiselles Bourgeois and Rossi.”

Marinette waited for Madame to continue.

“I mean how you snapped and yelled at Adrien Agreste, _your_ pas de deux _partner_ ,” stated Madame, with fact.

Marinette was confused, so Veniamin stepped in, gently. “Don’t worry about being nervous with the pas class. Madame and I have taught so many, and we have seen so many disasters, especially with kids getting used to all of _the closeness_ ,” he looked over at her, his hazel eyes dancing brightly. “You _will_ get more comfortable, and Madame and I see you take every criticism to heart, and that is why what I’m about to tell you is very important.”

The young girl nodded for him to go on; she was willing to hear what they had to say, relieved that it wasn’t a horrible punishment. Marinette didn’t know how she could ever tell her parents if she were suspended or worse, _expelled_.

“This class is a struggle because it involves communication not just from us, the instructors, to you, alone,” Veniamin shared, his hands waving around. “It’s also _you_ having to learn to communicate and to trust the partner you’re assigned, and everyone communicates differently. You have to adapt to each other.”

“And that is why when you took your frustration out on Adrien, it was a boundary _you_ crossed,” Madame added, making sure Marinette clearly understood. “I don’t care if you don’t apologize to Chloé or Lila, but you must do away with your pride and apologize to Adrien, sincerely.”

Marinette was silent. She knew they were right, and she was annoyed she already had the nagging feeling that she had to apologize to Adrien.

“Perhaps, when you _do_ apologize, you will be able to let everything else go and begin to perform the way we know you are capable of,” Veniamin reassured. “I may not have had you in any of my classes until now, but I _do_ know about Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the Aurelie Dupont scholarship student.”

She looked at him, wide blue eyes in shock. “Yes, sir. I understand,” Marinette stated softly, still stiff in the white leather chair in Madame’s office. “And again, I am sorry for my behavior. I will do my best to stay focused and improve.”

Madame Pavlova uncrossed her arms to reach out and delicately lift Marinette’s chin up with her pointer finger. “Françoise Dupont only accepts the best, and _you_ are here for a reason,” she reminded the young girl in front of her, as if in the span of one week, Marinette had completely forgotten. “You will meet people who will try to bring you down. We do expect better from you, but know that Ven and I will do our best to hold those people accountable in the future.”

Marinette wanted to cry. She was frustrated and happy at the same time, but she was flustered because she didn’t want to see two dance instructors she respected so much to see her break down. And that flustered feeling was already pushing the limits of her emotional barrier.

“Thank you…” she trailed off. While she was relieved she wasn’t banished from the academy for how she acted earlier, Marinette grew anxious. She wanted to leave and be alone, or even cry to Luka, who she knew was probably waiting for her. She appreciated Madame and Veniamin’s faith in her, but her emotions were drained and she didn’t know how to react appropriately.

Veniamin and Madame Pavlova let her go, telling her to get some rest and unknown to Marinette, they both sent her off with knowing smiles.

* * *

  
  


The air felt damp and humid even in the school locker area, and in the distance, Luka Couffaine could smell the scent of rain coming. He double checked the state of his violin and bow, both safely secured in their waterproof case. He couldn’t risk damaging it when he was halfway to paying off the rent-to-own fees. It was hard work and effort to pay, but he didn’t mind the shifts on top of being able to help out his best friend’s parents at their bakery. Tom and Sabine were understanding and supportive enough to even let him work in the back on the days when being around too many people was too much. On the rare occasion he would skip school because the energy was too heavy and weighed his mind down, Tom would suggest Luka come into the shop and help him in the back or make bicycle deliveries. He also constantly thanked Sabine for teaching him meditation techniques to better handle the weight of emotions he felt. She was like a second mother to him, always checking up on him, particularly after she figured out what he dealt with when his own mother and he were lost in confusion.

Sitting on the bench waiting for Marinette, Luka felt an incoming wave of anxiety that wasn’t his own. Picking off some of the chipped nail polish on his pointer finger out of habit, he looked over to the doorway, knowing Marinette would be stumbling in soon. Juleka and Rose had already left to grab lunch on their way to la Liberté, so he knew she would at least be able to vent about whatever had happened in class today. However, Luka was also very aware of the fact that it was most likely about Adrien Agreste.

He could _feel_ how upset she was, and it grew as she got closer to the lockers from the hall. Luka began to worry, twisting around the bracelet he wore daily; a gift Marinette had made him for his first music competition when they were nine years old. Sometimes he wondered if it held a lot of her energy because she made it, fashioned out of his old guitar and violin strings. She even attached an old guitar pick she painted with metallic paint as an extra charm. Luka would often tell her if ballet didn’t work out, she could easily fall into a career with fashion and jewelry, but Marinette always laughed it off. Ballet was her dream.

She didn’t even have to say his name. When she finally made it to the lockers, he looked up. “Let me just grab my books? And then can we...can we just…”

Luka understood Marinette without her needing to figure out what she needed to say and quickly nodded. She dropped her dance duffle beside him and ran to her locker. Knowing she would probably forget it, he grabbed her water bottle and tucked it away into her bag without a word.

Marinette slammed her locker door shut, to the point Luka could physically feel how upset she was. He picked up her dance bag along with this violin, and just as they were walking out of the locker room they ran into Adrien and, surprisingly, Lila Rossi. While Adrien wore a look of grave concern, Lila looked smug in contrast. With his attention on trying to beat the coming rain and get Marinette to a private space, Luka couldn’t be bothered to wonder why Chloé wasn’t trailing behind the model.

“Oh, Marinette! Why are you rushing off so quickly?” the auburn haired girl innocently asked. Luka knew very well to not fall for her tricks, not just because of her own track record, but simply for the fact that he felt an overbearing insincerity when he and his friends met her for the very first time the previous year. Luka picked up feelings of worry and insecurity, and he glanced over at Adrien. He didn’t have many interactions with the blonde boy all week, not like Marinette, and in busy classrooms for studying, Luka couldn’t always gauge which emotions and intentions came from whom. It was the first time he really stood near enough to catch how bright green Adrien’s eyes were—and Luka could see they were not the eyes of someone who wished to upset or harm another.

“Hey, Marinette, are you-” Adrien tried to speak up, but the awkward tension was too much for him.

Marinette gripped her backpack, and decided to not respond. Luka was aware how much she just wanted to be alone and away from the school, and running into Adrien _and_ Lila was definitely so far at the bottom of the list, it wouldn’t even appear on the page. She grabbed Luka by the sleeve of his flannel shirt, tugging him, so he would quickly follow. Luka gave Adrien an apologetic look before following his friend. Pale sapphire blue met peridot, with the attempts of letting the latter know that Marinette will be alright, no matter what happened.

As they made their way out of the school building, Luka could hear Lila behind them. “Will we see you next week, Marinette?”

He felt Marinette grip his sleeve more, and as if to speak for her when she wasn’t in the right headspace, he turned and shot Lila a glare. It was evident that it wasn’t a look everyone had been privy to, but only reserved for those who hurt those he cared about. The added incoming emotions that came from Marinette also added to Luka’ overprotective reaction. Lila, in return, was visibly shocked and acted frightened by clinging to Adrien’s arm even more.

Marinette was quiet, and Luka decided they head straight to the houseboat. She wouldn’t want to worry her parents, and she wouldn’t be able to hide how unhappy she was, so he prepared himself to bike as fast as possible to reach the Seine before the rain hit them.

Just as he rolled his bike onto la Liberté’s upper deck, the rain began to trickle down. Without a word, Marinette grabbed his violin and her bags, and she ran down into the cabin below.

“Perhaps I shall make you both some tea? Or do you think she’d prefer the classic _Chocolat Chaud de Couffaine_?” his mother, Anarka, asked him when he made his way into the houseboat galley. Just as Tom and Sabine treated Luka as one of their own, Anarka did the same with Marinette. Luka perked up when his mother offered to make her special hot cocoa.

“Definitely the Chocolat Chaud de Couffaine, maman,” he smiled, thankful she was willing to make the delectable treat. “Thank you!”

He noted Marinette’s sneakers at the bottom of the stairs, and he slid off his lace up boots. She had practically grown up on the houseboat with Luka and Juleka, and she influenced the family to take their shoes off when they entered the living space _at least_. Luka began to really respect the concept, especially when the weather was bad. He briefly listened to the rain begin to pour, as if it made the Seine sing.

Luka made his way to the couch where he found his tiny friend curled up underneath one of the many blankets the Couffaines kept in the common area. He took a seat next to her, taking out his phone to silently scroll through and catch up on any news until Marinette was ready to speak.

He got a message from Juleka asking if she and Rose should pick up lunch for him. He glanced over at Marinette who was still busy hiding under the blanket. He laughed when he saw a tiny hand reach out and grab a pillow, as it disappeared under the comfy abyss.

“Jule and Rose are picking up lunch for us,” Luka quietly informed her. “I told her to get the tomato bisque for you with extra crackers and bread.”

Marinette sat up, the covers tumbling down her shoulders, and her hair messier than ever. “They went to that cute little bistro a few blocks away, _didn’t they_?”

“Yep,” Luka laughed that eventually mellowed into a look of concern. “Is that lunch order okay? It seems like you’ve had a rough day and soup is usually your-”

Luka stopped when Marinette pulled the blanket over her head again. “Mari? If you want me to call Jule and see if she can change it I can, just -”

“No...no. It’s exactly what I’d like right now,” Marinette squeaked. There was a moment of silence when Luka heard a muffled growl from under her solo blanket fort. He let out a hearty laugh, mainly because the blanket she was using for protection was decorated with teddy bears and bows (it was an old favorite of Juleka’s). “And obviously...my stomach agrees…”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I hate how _right_ you are, _all of the time_!” she responded quickly. The small mountain moved around, and he could picture her pouting, crossing her arms and legs, just as she used to do when she was upset when they were little. “Like, it’s great but also _so annoying_!”

Luka leaned back against the couch, sliding down a bit. After his morning classes, he was tired of keeping a good posture all day. He continued to listen to the rain outside of la Liberté for a second, taking in how it echoed on the deck. “What am I right about this time?”

She poked her head out, and only her face and hair appeared; the rest of her remained a mass of fuzzy teddy bears and pink bows against a background of pale sparkly pink. Marinette’s hair got messier the more she fussed with the blanket, and Luka noticed how tired she looked. “I...I maybe sort of blew up at Chloé, Lila, _and_ Adrien today...during our pas class…”

Luka remained silent and simply twisted the black stud earring that was in his right earlobe.

Marinette looked down, as if she were ashamed. “I let them get to me, and what’s worse Adrien didn’t really do anything wrong,” she finally admitted aloud. “He was actually...he was trying to stand up for me and then...I don’t know.”

“Did you at least apologize?” Luka asked, although he was pretty sure that he already knew the answer.

“No…” Marinette pursed her lips, pouting even more. “But like! So Madame and Veniamin came and caught me yelling, and _I_ got in trouble. I mean—they weren’t _horrible_ to me. They understand. They told me to apologize to Adrien specifically because we’re pas de deux partners or whatever. And I understand but...what if I just don’t think he and I should even _be_ partners?”

Luka rubbed his left shoulder making a mental note to stretch later. He tried to figure out what to tell her, but he knew Marinette’s flustered mind would have her keep fumbling words out.

She gripped the blanket closer as she continued to look sulky, and he smirked as she looked like a Russian nesting doll mixed with a weird sugary burrito. “Like, sure, he’s a good dancer but…” Marinette sighed and blew her bangs up, exasperated. “I _know_ I need to apologize, but I just wasn’t in the mood because when I left Madame’s office, I literally ran into _Chloé_ who was clearly eavesdropping! And then I just wanted to leave, and then seeing Lila _with_ Adrien??? I didn’t want to apologize to him in front of her! Because Madame and Veniamin said I don’t have to apologize to Chloé or Lila, so I’m not going to!”

“And you know, if you explain that to him, he’ll probably understand right?” Luka asked. He began to feel as drained as Marinette did, but he could also sense that as she let out all of her frustration, she was feeling lighter. “You’re allowed to take your time, especially if you want your apology to be genuine. Just don’t wait too long—I know how stubborn you are.”

She shoved him with one of the extra pillows on the couch. “I’m not stubborn!”

“Mari!” Luka laughed, covering his black to electric blue hair from future blows from the attack pillow. “You’re so stubborn, you refuse to even _look_ at Adrien Agreste! ”

“Because. Adrien. Agreste. Is. Bad. Luck!” Marinette wailed, throwing her arms down with each beat. “I can’t dance properly when I’m paired with him, but Madame and Veniamin don’t seem to be changing their minds anytime soon—not even after what happened today!”

Luka just grinned, because he knew to anyone else this would look like a petulant tantrum, but this was simply Marinette’s unique way of letting her feelings out. If she couldn’t dance it out, she was dramatic in some other way. Plus, he also considered she was pouting more because she didn’t have food in her stomach yet. She curled up again, this time scooting closer to him. “Luka, I think I’m just hungry.”

“Well, yeah, I definitely could have told you that too,” he laughed. “Jule and Rose will get here soon.”

Before Marinette could speak, Anarka arrived, with two mugs of her special Couffaine hot cocoa. Marinette lit up, and the color began to return to her face. 

“Drink up dears. I figured it would be nice with this dreary weather today, eh?” Anarka offered gently, giving Marinette a wink. She gave Luka a pat on the shoulder. “I made a larger batch, so share with Juleka and Rose when they get here, alright?”

“Yes, ma,” Luka confirmed. He looked over and saw Marinette had scrambled down to the floor to sit at their makeshift coffee table like a small child.

After placing the large bowl-like mug down, she smiled, almost as if she were in a daze. “Luka, you can’t tell my parents I said this, but I prefer your mom’s hot chocolate…”

Luka took a small sip, letting the thick drink warm him up. He agreed with Marinette; there was something extra special about how his mother made her hot chocolate, and she refused to share the recipe with anyone. Not even her own children. As he set his mug down, he glanced over to the girl he called his best friend, who looked like a tired and mopey child. No one would believe Marinette turned sixteen years old only a few weeks ago, or that she was also a few months older than him and his sister.

Marinette was staring straight ahead, her eyes unfocused, and her chin resting on the old drum that served as a table. Her shoulders were slumped down, and Luka thought she looked like she could melt into a puddle. “Luka, what if this first week just means this entire year will be a cursed disaster?” she asked quietly. “For the first time ever, I really let Chloé and Lila get to me, and I looked like a fool in front of Madame. And what if I can’t get better at dancing with Adrien?”

“Well, you know what they say: ‘God only gives you what you can handle’,” Luka suggested. Marinette looked up at him confused. “Maybe _Madame_ only gives you what you can handle. And that’s _Adrien_.”

She initially didn’t react to him, until she scrunched her nose in annoyance. “Okay, shut up. That’s so weird coming from you, mostly because you’re not even religious,” she stated. But soon after, Marinette found herself laughing. 

“I mean it in the way that Madame challenges you, because she believes in you,” he explained, trying to justify his train of thought. Marinette scooted over to settle in the corner of the couch while she was still on the floor, holding her mug of hot chocolate. She dropped her head against Luka’s lower leg, resting on him like a clingy child.

“Thanks, Luka,” she said quietly. He didn’t need to reply; he knew the silence was comfortable. When he glanced down at her again, Marinette looked up at him, and he could get an idea of what she would ask. “Hey...do you need to practice?”

“Do you want me to play something?”

“Have you composed anything new recently? Sometimes you don’t tell me,” Marinette quietly asked, this time kneeling in front of the sofa, resting her head in her arms. “Or you could just play...whatever you think is best?”

Luka swiftly moved to fetch his violin and bow from their case. As he tightened the bow, so it could glide and bounce across the strings easily, he thought about the songs he knew and what would help put Marinette’s feelings at ease. In the past, he always seemed to figure out a song that helped her, whether she needed to let something out or refocus. Covering the length of the bow with rosin, he figured out what song would work for her.

“I think I have a song in mind,” Luka reassured her. She moved to layout on the couch, as he finished setting up.

As he settled into his playing posture, Marinette watched. She used to complain to him about how she wished she was musically inclined, and it wasn’t fair that he could naturally pick up instruments with ease. So she would watch him closely, as if she could learn one day, even though ballet was her calling. As Marinette settled back into the couch, piling pillows to rest her head against, Luka briefly checked to see if the instrument was still in tune.

Taking a breath, Luka moved his left hand into position on the neck of the violin, letting the bow extract the notes of a composition that he felt reflected how his friend was feeling. It was a single-movement work he grew attached to several years ago, and not only did he think Marinette would appreciate it, but he enjoyed it as well.

Within the opening cadenza, Luka focused on capturing the ethereal tones of _The Lark Ascending_ composed by Vaughan Williams. He knew that Marinette had read the original poem by George Meredith, and wondered if she could picture the scene through the music. It wasn’t why he chose that song though; in fact, he felt the song opened with her anxious and insecure feelings as the violin solo part opened with busy arpeggiations. As the tempo slowed while the violin notes climbed higher and higher, he hoped that the melody could help her find her peace within. Softly, the violin whispered through a diminuendo as it glided back to the bottom of the scale. Resolving the tension that started the piece off.

The sound of the acoustic violin being played, seemed to lift Marinette’s spirits as if they were the skylark described in the poem. The atmosphere changed, and Luka noticed the rain had stopped and a sense of calm returned to Marinette’s personal energy.

  
  


“We’re here!” Rose announced, holding the bag of food. “Sorry we’re late, the umbrella broke so we had to wait for the rain to stop.”

Marinette sat up again at the mention of lunch arriving. Luka laughed as he set his violin carefully back in the case; she really needed to fix her hair.

Juleka appeared behind Rose, holding the broken umbrella. “Don’t worry though,” she said calmly. “The food’s warm. We waited to make the order.”

Rose rushed the lunches over carefully to the coffee table with Juleka following with drinks. “What were you playing, Luka?” Rose chirped, as she happily handed over Marinette’s soup.

“Maman made her hot chocolate?” Juleka gasped, eyeing the mugs left behind by Marinette and her brother. “Did she make extra?!”

“I just finished playing ‘The Lark Ascending’, and, yes, Jule,” Luka answered, grabbing his sandwich. “She said it’s on the stove.”

Roses looked over at Marinette, who was rather silent as she ate. “Luka playing the violin, Couffaine hot cocoa, and your messed up hair,” Rose acknowledged aloud. “Marinette, did you have a bad day?”

Luka didn’t answer for her, but he smirked as Marinette choked on her tomato bisque. Sometimes she forgot how well Rose and Juleka knew her too, but it made sense. They all grew up together, first meeting when the three girls originally took ballet lessons when they were six years old. Eventually their families agreed on play dates and that’s how Luka met Marinette and Rose. Marinette didn’t understand how Luka and Juleka were twins when she had first met them, because they weren’t identical. She had even begged her parents for a twin brother too.

Marinette looked up bashfully. “Yeah...kinda.”

Juleka took a seat on the other side of Marinette. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly, giving her friend a sideways hug. “Or you can have my share of hot cocoa, if you’d like.”

Rose looked at Luka, her maternal side showing. “Luka, go away, we need to have girl time!”

“You act like I don’t already know what happened?” Luka flicked a potato chip at the tiny blonde. “I’m the one who told you what she’d like for lunch.”

Marinette giggled as Rose tackled both her and Juleka as if to aggressively attack them with her affection. “Are you feeling better yet, Marinette?!”

Luka could see the glow returning to his friend’s face, especially with the hugs from her friends. He had felt her returning to herself, but he could understand how the love and support she received from his sister and Rose helped. Juleka patted Marinette’s head, as if she were a sad puppy.

“Are you willing to tell us as I do your nails and Rose fixes your hair?” the tall lanky girl suggested. She looked at Marinette’s nails noting they were rather pristine, even if Marinette rarely painted them. “I have a pale pink color that I got for Rose to wear.”

Marinette beamed. “Yes! Please!”

“Hey, fix my nails too?” Luka chimed in.

Juleka looked over him, her expression telling him ‘No’. Rose had completely forgotten about her own food and began to undo Marinette’s hair, letting her dark locks come down from it’s bun. Marinette looked over at him, as if to tell him she can help him redo his black nail polish after lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in the song Luka plays for Marinette, you can listen to it here: ["The Lark Ascending" by Vaughan Williams, performed by Hilary Hahn](https://open.spotify.com/track/6zrtRfHvmi7KaLFRQ4zIPS?si=aFD6HrfQRtuUFUsheyj73Q)
> 
> I also compiled a Spotify playlist for the fic: [ chorégraphie soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2vs1PSm06LBk9xmFfsfoAQ?si=j97lR69AQSq3EksVoelOpg)
> 
> S/O to Editor @KellBell39
> 
> Beta Readers: Kayla and Sukii
> 
> Special thanks to Grace for certain input on Luka's section!
> 
> Chapter 5 will be up next Saturday - it's all done and ready. We will see Adrien and _finally_ some good good Kagami content. Or at least I think so...I just love Kagami lol. See you Saturday ~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chorégraphie Soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2vs1PSm06LBk9xmFfsfoAQ?si=7ba6bfd1c3bc4303):
> 
> First section: ["Hoppípolla" - Vitamin String Quartet](https://open.spotify.com/track/2CuDFSFwIy2pwpXNHPLwZ3?si=FmTAUcDiQUKLb6q1wwLwXQ)
> 
> Second section: ["Rebellion (Lies)" - Vitamin String Quartet](https://open.spotify.com/track/2bfRaRuHQp1QtaCcKYH8tD?si=rxPT3ALgTp2Oagj1v-4NSA)

It was a clear day, and it frustrated Adrien that the weather didn’t match his mood. Instead of warmth from the sunlight and the crisp air that the day brought, he was feeling cloudy and turbulent inside. The stoic dining room was as eerily silent as the entire mansion was everyday. Only the sounds of his and Kagami’s forks scraping their plates interrupted the oppressive stillness. At least today, the mansion’s gloomy atmosphere echoed his emotions. Adrien let out a long-suffering sigh, just barely poking at the salad in front of him. He simply had too much on his mind, as he rested his chin in his hand, and pushed his plate forward slightly.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Kagami’s voice forced Adrien out of his rattled thoughts, and he quickly returned to the proper posture at the table that had been drilled into him since he was a child. Kagami looked over at him sitting beside him, her face stern. Adrien felt guilty because he didn’t want to seem like he was ignoring his friend, particularly today when the both of them had actually managed to convince their parents to have Sunday off. It was wrong of him to not be focused on enjoying the presence of Kagami when he rarely got to see her during the week. He didn’t want their combined efforts to be able to enjoy a day to go to waste like this.

Adrien looked down; he didn’t know where to start. “Sorry Kagami…,” he started. He had yet to tell her what happened the day before. She had had a busy start to her third school year at the prestigious _Lycée des Arts Nobles Deschamps_ , and he hadn’t wanted to bother her with his drama. “I just feel like maybe the idea of me attending school was a bad one.”

The sun shone through the large windows of the Agreste mansion, catching the rim of Kagami’s crystal glass as she took a sip of water. It lit up the cool deep brown undertones of her always perfect bobbed hair. She took a second to speak after she gently placed her glass down, as she delicately readjusted her family ring on her right hand. “It’s only been your first week, Adrien. You’re being rather dramatic unless _something else_ happened since we last spoke Tuesday,” she hinted.

He knew he couldn’t keep his problems from Kagami for too long, so Adrien looked down. He just didn’t know where to begin. He looked around the dining room, as if he could locate an answer in the elegant and immaculately clean interior. Unfortunately, there was nothing around him that could help him explain his troubles. Even the large portrait of his late mother, who’s eyes seemed to follow him for protection, gave him zero insight.

“Remember that girl I told you about? Marinette? That amazing dancer?” he nervously queried, twisting his own ring around on his finger. He maintained that habit, and it used to irritate Kagami because she was someone who rarely fidgeted.

Kagami nodded, her eyebrows lifting her deep amber eyes up. “Yes. What about her? Have you realized that you like her yet?”

“W-what?! No! That’s not what I was about to say _at all_!” Adrien awkwardly fretted in surprise, lifting both of his hands and waving them frantically to emphatically indicate the ‘no’. “No, she was designated to be my pas de deux partner in class and besides...I think she has a boyfriend.”

“You _think_?” the small girl quipped, raising her right eyebrow. He grew flustered as he saw Kagami lift her chin and smirk. Adrien _hated_ it when she believed she was right, no matter how much he insisted she was wrong, especially when it came to his emotions. They were _his_ after all, weren’t they? “So what’s the problem, Adrien? Did you accidentally touch her inappropriately during your dancing? Do you have to fight her supposed boyfriend? You’re a decent fencer, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Adrien wanted to laugh at her dry humor, but it wasn’t the time, or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself. Brushing his hand through his hair before sliding it back down his neck, he looked outside. “No, nothing like _that_. She just doesn’t like me...” was all he could manage to get out, drifting off at the end of his statement.

He could feel Kagami watch him for a bit, waiting for him to continue at his own pace—it was something that had always made her a great listener. Adrien was trying to figure out how to explain the events that occurred the previous day, but it was all a jumbled mess. He wasn’t sure where to begin; he couldn’t figure out where he went wrong with Marinette. Adrien had barely spoken to her, and she was aloof, yet, somehow, when he tried to stand up for her, she got mad _at him_. 

When Madame Pavlova and Veniamin had scolded her, he felt he should have said something then, but then _he didn’t_. He had been anxious for the rest of the class and Marinette had still barely looked at him. Afterwards, he wanted to check to make sure she was alright after speaking to their instructors and even apologize for whatever he had done to cause Marinette to be so upset. Adrien had waited for her so he could find her and explain how he regretted what had happened and to make sure she wasn’t in trouble, but _even that_ went wrong. He didn’t know where Chloé had run off to, and then Lila had clung to him. While walking with him after class, she had continued to twist the events of what had occurred that day to paint Marinette as the villain, and Adrien had been too confused at the time to know what to say. So much drama had happened all in one week, and then when he had managed to find Marinette, she wouldn’t look at him and ran off with the music student she was always with. _Is Luka his name?_ Adrien questioned, wondering if he had heard Mademoiselle Bustier correctly. 

_He must be her boyfriend, right?_ he speculated, by himself. Adrien began to massage his temple with his right hand out of frustration. _He has to be with how much she’s with him. And the look he gave me as they left yesterday...he must hate me..._

“Do you think Gorille would let us go for a walk? Maybe he could take us to one of those dusty comic book shops you like to go to?”

 _That_ suggestion drew Adrien out of his muddled thoughts immediately. “ _You_ would actually go into one _for me_?” he stared at the girl beside him, bemused.

“Just keep the creeps trying to speak Japanese away from me, and there won’t be an issue,” Kagami demanded, as she scrunched her tiny nose; it made the dash of her freckles across her nose and cheeks dance.

He chuckled as he went to find Gorille in the next room over. Adrien understood Kagami’s hesitancy whenever he asked her to go to the comic shops with him. One, she was a girl, and two, the awkward guys at the stores could clearly see she was of Asian heritage which always made them act even weirder. Adrien could _acknowledge_ she was attractive, even though he saw Kagami as a sister. He had seen how other people their age watched her, yet she was always oblivious to that attention—except for some of the weird comic book guys because _they_ were quite obvious, and he knew it was very bothersome for her. She could handle them on her own, because with one look and they would typically retreat, but having Adrien nearby also kept them at bay to begin with. Adrien was aware that Kagami _hated_ the idea she needed a man to protect her, and she had once even dared to bring her fencing foil _and_ her bow and arrow to scare them more.

Adrien had swiftly suggested that might not be a good idea as that could potentially create weird cosplay fantasies, so she had quickly put her equipment away (though he would have loved to see them cower before her). As strict as Kagami appeared, she actually grew to enjoy comics because of him, and eventually anime and manga. She preferred reading manga over watching anime—she could read faster than an episode takes—but she was willing to watch episodes with him, partially so she could smugly tell him about a mistranslation in the subtitles. Kagami didn’t hate comic shops, she just didn’t enjoy the unsolicited attention. She had told Adrien many times she would rather order books online, yet he protested saying it took away from the experience of _going_ to the stores.

The blond model glanced out of one of the tall ornate windows, taking in the gorgeous weather, and quickly asked Gorille if he could accompany him and Kagami to the closest comic book shop. Before his bodyguard could respond, he also quickly asked if they could walk to one, simply to take in the nice weather as well (especially since there were three in decent walk distance). Gorille grunted without changing his expression, which Adrien took as a ‘yes’, and he quickly ran off to grab a light jacket before telling Kagami. There was a light spring in his step, and he began to feel like he wouldn’t be wasting his day, moping inside his brain.

“So, have you figured out how to tell me what happened yet?” Kagami looked over at him as she and Adrien crossed the Pont au Change bridge. The soft breeze off of the water played through his hair as they walked. Gorille followed closely, a few meters behind for privacy, and Adrien had been busy watching several tourists take photos. Sometimes, he forgot he lived in a city where people traveled from all over the world to visit.

Adrien scratched his neck for a second, thinking over what to say. “To be honest, I don’t know _what_ I did wrong,” he hesitated, letting the chattering background noise of the tourists wash over him. “I _do_ know that Chloé hates Marinette, and Marinette seems to feel the same way about Chloé...but Chloé’s reasons don’t-”

“I like this Marinette already,” Kagami laughed. Adrien looked over at her in distress, because he was not about to let _this_ conversation become about Chloé Bourgeois. It was about _his_ troubles with Marinette and how to fix things.

Although he didn’t really want to laugh, he _did_ let out a small chuckle. “I mean—yeah, okay, Marinette certainly puts Chloé in her place. Or well, she had started to yesterday, and then I somehow messed things up.”

“How so? Did you do something to piss off her boyfriend?”

“No! Just...in class she seems to have trouble getting the hang of dancing with me,” Adrien sighed. He was worried any of her mistakes were his fault. He looked down at Kagami as a slight breeze blew through, and it somehow didn’t affect her perfect hair. “I don’t know if it’s me, but basically she goes from this amazing dancer to a clumsy mess. The first day, she slipped and well...uh...she…”

He grew awkward remembering _the incident_ and Kagami narrowed her eyes at him. “Just say it, Adrien.”

In the moment when it had occurred, Adrien originally wasn’t bothered by it, but as he recalled it, he felt his cheeks redden and, without a single thought, covered his face with his hands. It really _wasn’t_ that big of a deal. He _knew_ it had been an accident, so Adrien didn’t know why he was so flustered trying to explain it to his best friend who had, first-hand, seen some of his dumbest moments.

“She uh...somehow slipped, and I caught her! But then…” he coughed, looking away from the tiny girl next to him. He _knew_ if he didn’t make it clear to Kagami it was an accident and any indecent touching wasn’t on purpose, she would surely beat him to a pulp. “Marinette grabbed my...well uh...my _butt_.”

Kagami stared at him, and Adrien _knew_ she was holding back a smirk, catching the gleam in her eyes. He braced himself for her reaction, and he tried to busy himself with staring at the sights around them as they walked through the Boulevard du Palais. He was actually so nervous waiting for Kagami’s response, he picked up his pace to speed walk ahead of her as they neared the arch bridge of Pont Saint-Michel to cross the Seine a second time.

Adrien could hear Kagami’s pace quicken behind him. 

“Adrien! Hey! _Adrien, seriously_!” she called, as she caught up to him. Adrien could hear the humor in her voice.

Before she could say anything, he stopped and turned around, his flustered emotion getting to him. “I _know_ it’s stupid!”

“No!” Kagami punched him in the arm. For as small as she was, Adrien sometimes forgot how athletic she was, and he could feel a bruise forming on his upper arm despite it being a friendly gesture. “You’re such a drama queen, I _swear_! Have you stopped to consider how embarrassed Marinette might be feeling?”

Adrien stopped and realized that he had been too preoccupied wrapped in thoughts and confusion as to why Marinette _hated him_ to even consider that she was just a humiliated mess. He had reassured her that any of her mistakes were okay, and he had understood. He had done his best to make it clear he never judged Marinette, and it was why he had started to step in when he felt that Chloé and Lila crossed a line the day before.

Kagami crossed her arms as she approached him. She looked intimidating standing next to him, in her deep red turtleneck and slim trousers. She was the most well composed person his age he had ever met, and in that moment, he really envied her. “I take your silence as a no,” she noted, moving her hands to her hips of her slim frame. “From what _you’ve_ told me, she is this incredible dancer, and that was after one class you had with her, yes?”

Adrien nodded silently, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. They continued to walk down Boulevard Saint-Michel, entering Paris’ Latin Quarter; the tree-lined boulevard was filled that day due to the pleasant weather and families enjoying their Sunday off together. Even in the early afternoon, the scent of fresh coffee and espresso wafted through the air. Restaurants with outdoor cafe seating were bustling, adding a rush of colors and aromas around them. Watching a little girl get happily fed by her mother while the father took a photo with his phone, Adrien was briefly reminded of the outings he took with his own mother before she passed away. He quickly shook it away as sad thoughts of how he never experienced anything like that with his father, _ever._

“But apparently, when Marinette dances with you, she loses all of her ability,” Kagami continued to confirm. Adrien remained quiet; she didn’t need a continual reminder of when she was correct since she always thought that she was right anyway. “This is in front of your classmates _and_ instructors. You even told me how intimidating Madame Pavlova is. So Marinette is probably just a mess right now, Adrien. This is a new class for _everyone_ in your year, and everyone wants to stand out and do well. Turning into a klutz is probably the last thing this girl desires.”

He was quiet, thinking over what Kagami just told him. Adrien didn’t mean to be so caught up in his own thoughts and feelings, that he unintentionally came off as selfish. It felt like a punch in the gut to think that perhaps Marinette saw him that way, and the worries started to come through like an internal downpour of rain.

Kagami reached out to gently touch his arm as reassurance. “Did something else happen?”

“Well, yesterday really wasn’t a good day for Marinette either,” Adrien began, messing up his sunlit locks of hair with his hand. He was hit with a wave of insecurities and couldn’t help but fidget. “You know, similar stuff to what happened in the first class and then during break...Chloé and this other girl, Lila, were saying some awful things about her.”

“I’m not surprised, seeing how it _is_ Chloé,” Kagami curtly interrupted as she pursed her lips. She was always ready to remind Adrien how much she disliked Chloé. “I’m not sure about this Lila person, but go on.”

The two of them, with Gorille still close enough to keep a watchful eye, reached the corner of Boulevard Saint-Michel and Rue Serpente, and waited to cross. As they continued down the winding street, Adrien and Kagami were draped in delicate shadows by the green and lush trees that loomed over the sidewalks. He was unsure how to continue the events of the day before. He also didn’t know how much to share about Lila because he still didn’t really know her and he always tried his best to not judge people by their first impressions.

The traffic had yet to slow down and Adrien breathed in, followed by a large sigh. “So, Chloé and Lila were kind of _mocking_ Marinette, making fun of how she’s a scholarship student. But actually, Kagami, I think it’s amazing and impressive and…,” he trailed off, only because he still wasn’t sure what went wrong. “She heard them and blew up. And I understand, but I _tried_ to stick up for her and then she just got really angry at me?”

Kagami processed the new information silently as they crossed the street to the narrow road of Rue Serpente. He caught a glance from her, as she kept her lips slightly pursed, a sign she was deep in thought. _I might as well just explain the rest of it_ , Adrien decided internally.

“Marinette got scolded by our ballet teachers in front of everyone,” he added, disappointed in himself. “And I know they had a meeting after class. I tried to wait, so I could apologize to her, but Lila hung around, and I don’t know. We ran into her on the way out of school, and she was with that guy she’s always with.”

He paused again, letting out another deep exhale. 

“Kagami, if this is what school is like, maybe I’m not cut out for it. I just don’t want to be seen as a bad person. Especially not by a girl who clearly works hard, and that I respect,” Adrien stated sadly, his light green eyes darker and downcast. The shadow of the building above him made him appear in a deeper state of angst as he stared down at his white canvas sneakers. His and Kagami’s shadows moved as they walked, their legs appearing longer in the midafternoon light, and he could feel Kagami watching him closely.

“So that’s it then? After all of your hard work?” she asked him. It sounded like an interrogation, and Adrien looked up to find Kagami judging him, with a look of absolute disappointment on her countenance. “You have trained so hard and proven yourself to your father time and time again to let you attend the school your mother went to. You never quit or gave up until now, but after _one week_ of misunderstandings and drama, you want out? That’s it? I expected more from you.”

She turned her face away, her amber eyes appearing to have an added flare. Adrien knew Kagami was upset, and he never expected it to be because of _him_ after he explained everything. He was shocked, and looked over to Gorille, who was at the end of the block, continuing to give the teenagers space.

Yet, even though Kagami’s words cut through him, Adrien understood what she meant. The day his private ballet master, Monsieur Ganio, had a private meeting with Adrien’s father to discuss how his son would easily be accepted into Françoise Dupont on his talent _alone_ , Adrien’s world changed. His mother, Emilie, raised him with a love for ballet, as she had studied it _and_ theatre, taking him to performances and telling him the different stories as he fell asleep. His father, Gabriel, preferred Adrien to focus on learning piano and fencing, but Emilie convinced him to let him at least try some private ballet classes. Adrien found himself loving every second, being able to express his emotions through every movement, even more than when he sat at the piano. Being raised at a young age to fit the mold and expectation set for him, he found a release in dancing, and his need to dance deepened even more after his mother passed away. His world without her had turned dark and lonely, and only the days that involved his ballet lessons brought color back into his world.

It’s why Adrien made sure to do everything his father demanded, even if it was strenuous. He barely had a social life to begin with, so more modeling and academics didn’t weigh him down. He felt that if he could prove that he could handle everything his father expected without question, on top of excelling at his dance lessons with Ganio, then maybe he would have a chance to at least attend his late mother’s alma mater. Françoise Dupont only accepted the best and nurtured the top talent in every department. If Ganio approved, then it was a step closer to one day dancing center stage as a principal ballet dancer for Adrien. It meant a life full of happiness, his dreams coming true, and perhaps _friends_.

After this first week of school life, it felt as if his rose colored glasses were torn off and shattered, and Adrien didn’t know how to pick up the pieces. And here was his best friend also telling him that he had disappointed her.

Kagami must have seen how upset he looked, because she decided to continue her lecture (or at least it felt like one). “I feel like _you_ of all people should know not everything comes easy,” she reckoned, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “School is hard, and not just because of the classes. _You_ know I’ve dealt with jerks at my school. You’re even related to one of them.”

Adrien winced. He immediately felt bad at how much this conversation made him realize how he had been swept up in his issues, and it seemed like he forgot about everyone else. He didn’t stop to consider Marinette’s perspective, and now Kagami’s. He didn’t even know what to say, because even an apology from him right now probably wouldn’t feel sincere.

“I stuck with it, Adrien, and you’ll be okay if you keep going too,” she added, more gently this time. A breeze swept through the street, and Adrien felt as if some of the emotional weight was being lifted from his shoulders. “And if you even _think_ about giving up again, I will personally drop-kick you.”

“But Kagami! It’s just...how did you get through it? This is your third year of school already,” Adrien cried out. He was really trying to not whine. He was simply frustrated and wanted proper instructions on how to fix everything like the little manuals that came with the models that he would collect and build when he had free time.

Adrien and Kagami had already reached the yellow entrance of Aaapoum Bapoum, the first comic book destination on the list. Adrien lightly kicked the concrete beneath him, as if to kick an invisible rock and he wished he was in a better mood to enjoy this shop filled with imagination, wonder, and escapism.

His composed friend stood before him, confident in what she was about to say. “Take the time to consider how hard Marinette works, and why she may feel annoyed by your sudden appearance,” she commented, taking an assertive tone. “You _are_ privileged, even if you got into the school on your talent alone. Think about it, compared to her, who worked especially hard to be awarded a full scholarship just to attend? Where do you think she would be if she didn’t have that financial help? We are lucky, and as humble as we may be, it still doesn’t help with first impressions.”

“But I never said anything demeaning about her,” Adrien softly argued.

“Yet you were with two people who were mocking Marinette’s humble background, which is also dismissive of her hard work and talent,” Kagami was blunt this time. “You appeared like one of those spoiled rich students in that moment, and so of course she got angry.”

Another point to Kagami, and Adrien knocked his head against the yellow tiled wall behind him. He was grateful for Kagami’s honesty, but it hit him in ways he wasn’t expecting. With every factor she threw at him, he began questioning if he was a person worth getting to know at all.

Kagami crossed her arms in front of him, and cocked her head to the side, with some of her dark hair framing her face more. “Although you may not have realized where she was coming from, and her frustration with those two imbeciles is understandable, Adrien, I think in _this_ case, it’s actually Marinette who should apologize to _you_ ,” she said as gently as she could. “Sometimes people take their frustrations out on others, and it can be aimed at the wrong target. This is all new to you too. And perhaps she judged you too harshly by association.”

Adrien felt it was unfair how much wisdom Kagami had, even though she had an equally strict upbringing like him. He wondered if her focus on fencing and archery made her more insightful, aided with the ability to analyze and pinpoint the root of every issue and challenge she approached.

“Maybe you’re right. But I still feel really bad, like I should have said something,” he mumbled. The sunlight found its way to him again, and the warmth began its healing effect on his mood. He glanced up at his friend, noticing the different hues of her hair become more visible under the warm sun.

“You _are_ a good person, even though you’re a dramatic idiot at times,” Kagami acknowledged, which Adrien met with a bashful smile. “It’s just the first week of an entire year of a new experience for you. Marinette will come around, and as much as I know you want to apologize, let her come to you.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, exasperated. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Well, for one, quit hanging out with Chloé.”

“Kagami! This _isn’t_ about Chloé!” he scoffed. He was beginning to find every one of Kagami’s digs at the blonde girl, who the conversation wasn’t even about, amusing.

The headstrong girl gave him a stern look, pointing a strong finger directly at him. “You can’t deny she caused at least _some_ of this mess,” she demanded, some red becoming visible on her cheeks in anger about the Chloé. “Marinette _will_ come around, especially if your teachers spoke to her and are having you both continue to dance together. They know what they’re doing. Now are we going in or not?”

Kagami’s reassurance _did_ seem to help him a little, and Adrien laughed as he held the door open for her. The smell of old books and dried ink undercut by the crisp scent of freshly printed paper hit them and he knew this was a small escape from the place he called home.

* * *

  
  
It was very clear to everyone around her that Kagami indeed loved the color red, and it could easily be spotted in her day-to-day life. Even if it wasn’t obvious, like her deep navy school uniform, the bright crimson color could always be found in accents in her accessories and anything she used. Kagami wasn’t sure where it stemmed from, but she remembered it being the first color she could recognize, and somehow it had become an important color to her. She loved how many meanings were tied to it, and she could always find a different symbolism attached to the color that would help her appreciate it more.

Even if she kept her emotions close, the addition of red to the uniform was why Kagami was excited to finally be a third year at _Lycée des Arts Nobles Deschamps_. She fixed the carmine satin cross continental tie around the neck of her crisp dress shirt until it was in place and quickly secured it with the gold signet pin of her academy. The bright tie was not only _her_ color, but signifier of her third year status at the school. The first year navy and second year cashmere blue ties were fine, but the red fed into her passion to succeed.

She smoothed her fitted pinstripe pants and vest of her uniform, and quickly checked herself in her standing mirror before slipping her school tailcoat on. Since her first day as a first year, Kagami had worn the boys’ uniform of her school every day, and it was not about to change this year. She had fought hard to be allowed to wear it instead of the girls’ outfit, and she was proud of the changes she set forth at Deschamps, known for its tradition and conservative values. On top of it all, her mother was proud of Kagami’s determination to challenge the school committee whenever she felt it was necessary.

Kagami’s mother was already at work; a morning routine she had grown accustomed to now that she was sixteen (turning seventeen in November). She couldn’t remember the last time she wished to have breakfast with her mother, even if it was in silence. She felt being alone in the mornings kept her focused and without distractions. She was ready to leave, and Yvette, Kagami’s personal assistant whom her mother had assigned to her when she was thirteen, ran through her upcoming schedule for the day.

“You have fencing practice immediately after school,” Yvette confirmed, staring at her digital tablet. She was a tall thin woman, and Kagami appreciated her as a consistent source of human interaction. Yvette had even studied abroad in Japan for several years, and Kagami had helped Yvette improve her Japanese, once she had become comfortable around her. “And then afterwards you have strength training with Madame Laurent.”

Kagami nodded, as she headed out of the door to the family car, and obviously only the Tsurugi Automobile brand would do. “Yes, Yvette, and my mother will be busy as usual?”

“Correct. Do you know what you would like for dinner this evening? I assume you will get lunch with Anita as usual,” her assistant replied. As strict as Kagami’s mother was, Kagami always noticed Yvette made sure to make Kagami’s interests her top priority, and that even included meals. Before Yvette came into her life, meals were always catered to strict diet plans ordered by Tomoe. Kagami respected it, especially as a young athlete, but Yvette knew when to slide a sweet treat to her young mistress (and sometimes her friends, like Adrien and Anita).

Kagami opened the car door to the sedan’s backseat and paused.

“Could I ask if perhaps Anita might be joining us? Maybe Madame Vincent could make one of Anita’s favorites,” Kagami suggested. “I can message you around lunch, so you can prepare accordingly.”

“Of course, Kagami,” Yvette smiled, moving her long braid off her shoulder. Once Kagami was situated in the backseat with her school bag and fencing equipment, Yvette shut the door and sent the car off with her routine wave.

It was warm in the car, with the sun finding its way through the tinted windows and Kagami closed her eyes, thinking about the day before. Adrien had been in lighter spirits by the time they had left the first comic shop, which had driven him into a fit of hunger since he had barely eaten his lunch. Before they could even make it to the second shop on his list, he had begged Kagami asking if they could at least get a snack. Instead, Gorille had overhead Adrien, and went and fetched them some _galettes_ for them from a nearby stall (ham, Swiss cheese, and egg for Adrien and just ham and egg for Kagami).

She smirked, and as she thought about their conversation, she reached into her well-worn leather satchel to pull out her phone.

 _« Your second week of school will be fine. Don’t stress. »_ Kagami quickly typed and sent. She figured after his turmoil that a text reminding Adrien he will be okay might help quell his nerves. Even though he was happier and had sorted through her advice by the end of the day, Kagami knew he would wake up with nerves clouding his thoughts again. 

As she looked outside as the car continued its path to school, she noticed the trees had yet to turn into the colors of fall. September was always a pleasant month for good weather, and Adrien’s birthday marked the end of it. Kagami’s mind began to wander and think about what he might want to do when the time came to celebrate, when her phone responded with a buzz.

_« gorille got me a croissant AND chouquettes this morning! i think that’s a sign of a good day! »_

Kagami smiled as she read Adrien’s response. He truly was the epitome of the phrase ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’. Her phone vibrated again and another grey text bubble appeared from him: « _these are so good, we should go to this bakery one day! »_

Before she could reply, Kagami found herself in front of Deschamps and could see a small girl with shoulder-length deep chestnut hair and glasses approaching. It was Anita, Kagami’s other best friend besides Adrien, whom she had known since they were children. Anita Reyes, daughter of the one of the largest mining companies, Reycorp, met Kagami when they were six years old. Anita and her family had visited the Tsurugi Corporation in Tokyo for an upcoming business partnership, and Anita had been the only child Kagami’s age that Tomoe approved of. They fumbled through Japanese and French, helping each other with the other’s native language, and through the years, Anita easily became a dear friend to Kagami.

It was Anita that supported Kagami’s decision to even apply to Deschamps when the school decided to break out of their reputation as an all-boys’ academy and open enrollment for girls. Kagami, only fourteen years old, was hesitant to ask her mother for permission and almost _didn’t_ ask, out of fear her mother would insist that private tutoring would be best. Anita had encouraged Kagami, walking her through the best way to approach Tomoe and how to prove it would be a great investment towards Kagami’s education, as well as impressive. The thought of her daughter being one of the first girls to graduate after having attended all three years from the distinguished school left Tomoe with a small smile, and after Tomoe’s blessing for Kagami to apply Anita applied as well.

Adrien had been equally as supportive, of course, but he never knew how to handle these matters with his own father.

“Kagami, it’s only the second week of school, and I’m already panicking over our end of term exams,” Anita exclaimed, opening the car door. “I’ve already been studying as much as ever, but you _know_ our exams aren’t just _any_ exams.”

Kagami wasn’t surprised that this was the first thing her friend greeted her with. Anita wasn’t wrong; Deschamps was known for producing the top students in both academics and sports—especially fencing, archery, and swimming. While the school did support their rugby and soccer clubs, they were considered leisurely and for competitive fun; and _everything_ and _everyone_ was competitive at Deschamps. Kagami was naturally at the top of her classes easily and excelled at fencing and archery, and while many people had approached her for help, she had only helped Anita with her studies.

An airy breeze passed through, giving movement to Anita’s hair and the pleated skirt of her uniform. While she admired Kagami’s ability to wear the boys’ outfit, Anita had conceded to the skirt and pinafore versions Deschamps had designed for the female students. She had also enjoyed the more fitted blazer in comparison to the boys’ tailcoat. As Kagami got out of the maroon car, Anita nudged her glasses further up the bridge of her slight nose.

“Anita, you’ll be fine. Your parents are the ones bringing this up, aren’t they?” Kagami asked. “I’ll help you.”

Anita groaned. “I _know_ , but it’s been on my mind all weekend and this morning! I could barely sleep. I woke up at 4AM!”

Other uniformed students surrounded the campus, and the scholarly brick building of Deschamps stood proudly before them. Crowds of dark navy filled areas near the trees, as other students grouped together, mostly boys as there were still very few girls to be accepted. Some were studying with determination to be the top student of their classes and others discussing upcoming sports tournaments. The wrought iron fence appeared to create a separation of those who were deemed eligible to attend versus those who were not.

“Did you skip your evening run? You know those always help you sleep.” Kagami queried as she noticed some first years stumbling over from the Deschamps dormitories a few blocks away.

The two girls made their way through the gated entrance when Kagami felt the quick touch of something fly against her perfectly coiffed hair. Reacting quickly, she snapped her hand up and managed to catch someone’s hand. Swiftly turning her head to the right with a fierce glare, she was met with the smirk of her _one_ rival in the entire student body.

“ _Ohayo_ Kagami-chan!” he snickered, his steel blue eyes catching the sunlight playfully. He quickly slipped his hand out of Kagami’s firm grip. “Or perhaps I should start calling you _Mi_ -chan since we’re _such good friends_?”

Before Kagami could reply, Anita reacted, stomping up to the boy who was _very_ tall compared to both of the girls. “ _Félix_! Get lost!”

Félix Graham de Vanily was probably the most troublesome person Kagami had ever met—even worse than Chloé Bourgeois. He simply smiled back at her and Anita with a knowing look. Kagami had always prided herself on being a very analytical person, but there was just _something_ about Félix that bothered her, and she could never pinpoint why. The list of issues she found with him went on forever, but as he evilly grinned, all she could think of was slicing him up with her fencing foil.

Their introduction to each other as first years at the very beginning of their Deschamps careers didn’t go well, and, ever since, Kagami did her best to not let the flaxen haired boy get to her. Félix’s reason for attending Deschamps was simply because he had been bored in London, and it annoyed her. The fact he barely studied and was always so close to her scores angered her deeply. She couldn’t understand how he had zero passion for _anything_ or how he expected to just slide through life with such ease. And while she knew it was petty, Kagami _hated_ how he refused to wear the tailcoat of the uniform. She found it disrespectful how Félix would lazily throw it over his shoulder, holding it with one limp finger.

He frowned as if to mock the girls. “Aw, I was just thinking it was about time I could at least call Tsurugi-chan by her first name, Reyes,” he taunted, bringing his hand up to his chin as if to be lost in thought. Félix was clearly fluent in French, yet even Kagami could pick up on pieces of his British accent when he spoke. “Do you not approve, Kagami-chan? We’ve known each other for about three years now. You’d think we would be on friendlier terms, _right_?”

Another reason Kagami found Félix so irritating was how she never knew how to respond to his teasing. She excelled at almost everything, yet somehow when it came to _him_ , she blanked on how to react appropriately. The most she could do was simply act as if she were unbothered, while Anita typically reacted loudly to him like a loyal guard dog. Kagami gripped her bag and tugged Anita, as if to quietly signal her to stand down; Félix simply wasn’t worth the energy.

“Okay, well I’ll see you in class, _Kagami-chan_!” he yelled. She hated how she could _feel_ the antagonism that was released in the way he said her name.

Kagami shot him an aggressive glare, but he didn’t notice. She knew the boys approaching him had his attention. It was most certainly about some poker tournament he was holding in the dorms later that week, which she always heard about. She watched him briefly; the boys Félix usually spent time with were barely even his _friends_. He was somehow a leader of a small group, but even _she_ could tell he didn’t care about any of them and she was curious if any of them actually knew this.

She also couldn’t understand how he could _possibly_ be the maternal cousin of Adrien Agreste.

Félix and Adrien were not close anymore; it was something Kagami knew very well. The two cousins weren’t on speaking terms by the time she met Félix and found out about their familial connection (it was one of the few times she was truly astonished at anything). Even now, she still held a grudge against Félix for how dismissive he was towards Adrien the first time he came to Deschamps to support her during a school fencing match. Adrien used to agonize over it, believing it was his fault for their fall-out, but as Kagami dealt with Félix at school, she quickly understood it was simply Félix’s cold attitude. Three years later, she still vividly recalled the heartbroken look on Adrien’s face when Félix had made it quite clear he was aware of his cousin’s presence and deliberately ignored him. Kagami had almost lunged at Félix with her fencing foil, but Adrien held her back, leaving the both of them to simply watch Félix leave after causing a disruption.

Over time, Adrien stopped mentioning him to Kagami, knowing she would get angry at hearing his name. It also didn’t help how much Félix went out of his way to prank and tease her at school, which she would vent to Anita and Adrien _very_ often. She _knew_ keeping her cool only aggravated him, so his attempts to get her to react only grew more consistent, to even mixing in letters of his own with the amount of secret admirer notes she received constantly, especially on Valentine’s Day. Kagami was very unaware of the attention she received from classmates, and she really didn’t understand how she had garnered so much of it. Anita tried to explain it to her once, especially when Kagami received quite a few homemade sweets from several girls along with roses on her desk. Félix, however, never wrote any letters of affection like the others. Kagami and Anita could figure out it was Félix because he never went out of his way to disguise his handwriting, and the messages usually consisted of simple notes like ‘Do you even notice me? Probably, since I’m better than you,’ ‘I love you so much, I think it would be amazing if you just left my school,’ or ‘Do you love me? Yes or yes’. He consistently flaunted how much he _knew_ about her culture and background and even though he never mentioned Adrien, he would imply how much of a geek her male companion was, and that’s why Adrien spent time with her.

Félix was certainly cognizant of how if he _ever_ mentioned Adrien’s name to Kagami that it would be the end for him. He certainly wasn’t stupid, and it bothered Kagami that he was so frustrating yet still very conscious of boundaries as well. Sometimes he would even hold back on his pranks and antagonize her through academics. Félix didn’t involve himself with sports, so she couldn’t beat him in any tournaments, but she heard how brilliant he was at chess and poker. Anita later reported to her that despite how easily he won every chess and poker game with the most qualified competitors, he apparently never bothered to enter any championships for either. Kagami didn’t understand how he could be so talented, and then at the same time, so _useless_.

She didn’t like seeing him as a suitable rival, but he was. Kagami did her best to _not_ let feelings of hatred creep up in her, because she knew if Félix had the ability to create any sort of strong emotions within, he would essentially win. And she couldn’t let him win.

But, Félix Graham de Vanily certainly made it difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Editor - @KellBell39  
> Beta Reader - @sukiisgallery (IG)
> 
> Chapter 6 is done and ready for next Saturday ~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I am really excited to work on this in my free time. I’m currently relaunching my webtoon, _Honey Lemon_ , to Webtoon Originals, so that’s my main focus (one could say job, as it is how I pay rent) right now. Still, I’m so excited to continue writing and posting this, it’ll just be a little bit irregular since it has to fit in with my other work.
> 
> Also, shoutout to [@KellBell39](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/KellBell39/pseuds/KellBell39) who is my editor and personal assistant (currently unpaid but soon to maybe hopefully be paid) in all things! Also thank you to @Surrah for beta reading for me! And thanks to some very important people who really encouraged me to try writing something like this. You know who you are - the efforts in this are for you.


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